


The Impossible

by AuthentiKait



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, Arthur!Harry, Brain Injury, Canon Divergence, Character Death, Coping Mechanisms, Damaged!Eggsy, Damaged!Harry, Emotional Trauma, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gawain!Eggsy, Grieving, Harry Hart Lives, Hurt/Comfort, I am sorry for this, I wont put spoilers here so, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Illness, Mutual Pining, OC Kingsman knights, PTSD, Pining, Poor Eggsy, Poor Harry, Romance, So much angst, Stupid oblivious idiots, but especially poor Merlin and Roxy, poor damaged Harry, poor damaged eggsy, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-05-29 03:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6356227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthentiKait/pseuds/AuthentiKait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tell them I was happy<br/>And my heart was broken<br/>All my scars are open<br/>Tell them what I thought would be impossible"~ Shontelle</p><p>Eggsy Unwin's just trying to get by. Do the op, go home, try and get Harry out of his mind. But nothing ever works quite that way- especially when the impossible happens.</p><p>The story of how Eggsy Unwin and Harry Hart broke each others hearts, too many unread voicemail messages, the confusion surrounding eggs, some very frustrated best friends and how sometimes love can beat all the odds stacked up against it.</p><p>How love can truly, most heart-breakingly, conquer the impossible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! To answer your question, yes this is going to be a very long, very drawn out fic. I've never done one of these before, so bear with me, but I promise all will be resolved. Hartwin will get their happy ending, despite how slim the odd might look.
> 
> I actually wrote this 1st chapter some time ago, I've just been perfecting it, so again bear with me, and I hope you all enjoy this trainwreck of a fic that I can't wait to keep writing!

_Hey 'Arry. S'me._

_The mission in Budapest went alrigh', coulda been worse. The mark was a piss-poor shot, 'e wouldnta known a prime minister from a pot plant, but 'e managed to get one shot in before I got him - still one fucking shot too many, I shoulda taken 'im out beforehand, in Merlin's opinion. Foiled assassination an' all tha', ya'd think since shit went tits up a couple o' months back people wouldn' be so keen to fuck it all up again._

_Merlin's getting the shits wiv me though, cause I keep breaking 'is shit. I broke another pair of glasses the other day, and 'e keeps threatening to superglue them to me head while I sleep, but first, I don't sleep, and if 'e glues em to my head he has to endure 24 hour vids of me doing my thing every single day. He'd kill 'imself by the second day I fink. But he keeps tabs on me all the time anyway, the bastard. S'only a matter of time 'fore I nick 'is coffee beans._

_Speakin of our favourite angry Scot, I fink 'im an Rox've got somefin going on. They send each ovver puppy eyes when they're not lookin' , and I think I'll be sick if it goes on any longer. I know Rox fancies 'im, she told me when we was on a pub crawl last week. And I'm pretty sure Merlin don't blush a loverly shade of magenta for just anyone. I'm gonna knock their heads together soon if they don't get a move on wiv it._

_Oh, an' Dais is learning to talk! She's stuck a bit on the 'tr' sounds, so wheneva she spots a truck she yells 'Fuck! Fuck!'. She did it in the park the other day, Mum was so embarrassed. I videoed it though, sent it to all the knights- Rob, sorry, Kay was in fits a' the barracks._

_Merlin has such a soft spot for Dais though, even though 'e hates showing it. He keeps Kinder Surprise in 'is desk for 'er, and every time I take 'er to HQ wiv me she comes back with chocolate on 'er face and a toy in 'er hands. S'quite cute, Merlin havin a lil soft spot for kiddies. She's gettin’ so big now, Harry, I wish ya could see 'er._

_And now we get to the best bit of these voicemails, eh? The part where I tell ya how mad I am for ya, and even though time's passin' and shit's changing, I'm still just as hung up over ya since the day I saw ya. And I still feel just as fucking sorry that I was the reason ya died, that if I hadn't been a right fucking wanker and pissed ya off, you'd still be here._

_And I'll never forgive meself. Neva. Cause everyone misses ya so much, and I have t' live wif the fact it's my fault ya gone. I'm so fuckin' sorry, Harry._

_Alright, I'm gonna go try to go 'ave a kip, and like always, I still can't sleep through the night fully. Keep dreamin’ of ya, waking up with you fallin' to the ground dead stuck on me brain. Alright, g'night Harry. I love ya, I miss ya._

_Please come home. G'night._

_****_

Eggsy falls back into the pillows with a soft thump and a sigh, eyes fixed on his phone as the screen fades to black, leaving the room in almost complete darkness, except for the crack of moonlight creeping in through the curtains.

Placing his phone on the bedside table, Eggsy closes his eyes, and tries to will himself into sleep.

_Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.exhale. Harry. No, inhale. exhale. Inhale, Harry-_

A good while later, maybe an hour, he opens his eyes again, checking the alarm clock's fluorescent letters.

 _1:43 am_. With another quiet sigh, Eggsy pushes back the covers and pads his way out of the guest room and into the pitch black hallway. If anyone thinks badly of him for pretty much living in Harry's empty house, despite having his own barely two minutes away, well - it's none of their fucking business. He's sure Merlin knows, there's a tracker on every Knight, and Merlin's a fucking snoop, but the ops coordinator/ chief handler/ guy who keeps all the shit together never says anything, so. Can't have been the weirdest shit he's seen, what with a 20+ years career.

Entering Harry's room, Eggsy heads straight for the wardrobe, the door opening with a familiar creak. Fumbling blindly in the poor light, his hands make contact with a familiar material and he pulls the cardigan from the confines of the wardrobe, pulling it to his face to breath in the familiar, comforting scent. _Harry_.

His eyes threaten to well up, further hindering his vision, and Eggsy picks his way across the room and to the bed, where he crawls into the left side, pulling the covers up and over himself. Cardigan still clutched to his chest, he reaches out an arm to feel the empty pillow next to him. The pillow feels warm, as if a wavy, chestnut coloured head of hair just left it, and Eggsy chalks it down to extreme lack of sleep.

He really should just move his shit into this room, but it feels like he's spoiling something if he does. So every night, like clockwork, he moves from the bed in the guest room to this one, always with an item of Harry's clothing. Inhaling the sweater smell again, a tear breaks loose from the pool filling his eyes, and slips down his cheek.

"G'night, 'Arry," Eggsy whispers, accustomed to the empty silence that follows. And another tear slides down his cheek as he falls into an uneasy sleep, the cardigan still bundled into his chest.

_Inhale. Exhale._

_Harry._

_****_

Eggsy wakes at 5:30am on the dot like clockwork, as he does every morning, after a fretful sleep spanning at least 4-5 nightmares comprising of Harry dying, Eggsy shooting Harry dead instead of Valentine, or Harry shooting Eggsy, in no particular order.

Rubbing at the dark circles under his eyes, Eggsy smooths a hand over his rumpled bed hair and slips out of bed, careful not to disturb JB, who always sneaks from his own doggy bed in the kitchen up the stairs and onto Harry's bed by the time Eggsy wakes up. Giving the pug a gentle pat, making him snort happily in his sleep, Eggsy traipses across the room and into the hallway, before entering the toilet. Saying good morning to Mr Pickle as he takes a piss, Eggsy tries not to shudder at the glassy eyes boring into the back of his neck, and leaves the room as quickly as possible.

He wanders back into the other bathroom and has a shower, steam swirling off his skin as he ducks his head under the water. Then Eggsy jerks himself off, imagining it's Harry's hands on his body, and Harry's hand wrapped around his cock, Harry's body pressed against his, before he comes with a gasp and a wracking shudder, white spurts shooting down the drain as he leans his forehead against the steamy glass.

After that, Eggsy goes upstairs to the kitchen and makes coffee, the high-end machine hissing and clunking methodically. And while his coffee is being made, Eggsy begins the next stage of his morning routine at 6am- cleaning the house until it's spotless.

He dusts, vacuums, cleans the bathrooms, straightens pictures hanging lopsided on the walls. He resets every item in immaculate perfection, just the way Harry left it. Roxy liked to give him shit about it a lot- how his own house was a mess, and Harry's was so spick and span neat, but as far as he was concerned, every minute was worth it, if he could imagine, for just one, blissful second, that Harry would walk through that front door like he'd never left.

Eggsy sculls his scalding hot coffee in record time, pours some dog food in a bowl for JB when he wakes up- and then he gets dressed, slipping on his shoulder holsters,the bespoke suit fitting him like a glove, fastening his cufflinks, careful not to disturb the poison caps. He combs his hair perfectly, slides on his oxfords, and places his glasses gently on his nose, trying, like every morning, to imagine what Harry would tell him.

 _"Now Eggsy, have you left JB's dog door open, so he can get in and out_ ?" Harry's voice echoes in his mind. _"And don't forget to set the alarms_ ".

Eggsy does the tasks with an inaudible whisper of "Yes, 'Arry," before approaching the entrance hall, and checking his reflection once in the mirror there. His reflection, like every morning, almost makes him do a double take, thinking it's Harry staring back at him. His lips twitch into a mournful smile as he closes his eyes, wishing with every fibre of his being that Harry would just come _home_. That when he opened his eyes, Harry would be standing behind him in the mirror, a hand on his shoulder, and that he would forgive Eggsy for everything that he had done.

But this ain't that kind of movie, bruv.

And switching on all the locks and alarms on the doors and windows, Eggsy leaves for work, looking every inch a rich wanker's swotty son who's taking over the family business as soon as Daddy carks it. To the everyday pedestrian, the woman carrying her weekly shopping, the man walking his bulldog, the two birds giggling to each other at the bus stop, this is Eggsy. And they have no idea that he could kill multiple people in less than five seconds, snapping necks and firing bullets until everyone in that busy London street was gone. But they'd never know, they'd never need to. And Eggsy would never hurt them, not when he saw a bit of his mum in that woman, and a dash of Daisy in a child crying for sweets. This was what Kingsman was about- keeping the innocents safe and oblivious at the same time, saving the world so they could continue their average little lives in peace.

And Eggsy was perfectly fine with that, thanks.

Getting to Savile Row, he strolls through the front door, bell tinkling as he enters, and says hello to Ector, the only actual tailor that worked for Kingsman. He had some pretty sick moves though, Eggsy knew- he'd seen the tailor break a man's arm and then stab him through the eye with a needle when the shop had come under attack a few months prior.

Entering Fitting Room One, Eggsy tried not to look for Harry over his shoulder in the mirror as he pressed his palm to it. He tried not to think of Harry's voice as the lift descended further and further into the bowels of the earth. He tried not to think of Harry sitting across from him on the journey to HQ in the tune, one long leg folded over the other, that small smile twitching across his lips.

But how could he not think of Harry, when he was always in Eggsy's head?

Every morning Eggsy barges into Merlin's office without knocking, and every morning Merlin tells him off in that rough Scottish brogue of his. This morning is no different.

"For God's sake, Gawain!" Merlin hisses as he jumps slightly in his chair, Eggsy trying to hide his self-satisfied grin. "Yer supposed to knock!"

"But knockin' spoils the fun of seein' ya jump out of ya chair each mornin'," Eggsy leans on the quartermaster/ ops coordinator/ recruit trainer/ Keeper of the shit together's desk, smirking. "An' ya don't even believe in God, Merlin".

"I _believe_ yeh are single-handedly responsible for the steady rise in my blood pressure," Merlin retorted, shooting Eggsy a cross look as Roxy strode through the now-open door, fresh from what looked like a fairly strenuous workout.

"Eggsy, stop being a shit," she announced, winking at the agent as he flipped the bird at her, wiping her face with her workout towel.

"I learned from the best," he shot back, and Roxy rolled her eyes.

"Righ, stop messin' about, I've got a quick mission for yeh, Gawain. A corrupt diplomat who's come home fer a while. He's havin' an affair with some backwards KGB woman, and we've got faith that he ain't home fer a friends and family visit." Merlin explained as he typed away on his keyboard, an alert on Eggsy's glasses flashing as Merlin sent him the intel. "Rumour is that he's planning a terrorist attack on Piccadilly".

He didn't fail to notice how Merlin treated him a touch nicer than the other agents- c'mon, if he really didn't want Eggsy to scare the shit outta him, hed've put a stop to it months back. It’s liike they think he's more fragile or something- even Rox don't rib him like she used to.

"I've sent yeh the security footage of the bastard receiving an envelope at a charity gala, probably containing a love-letter turned bomb plans. As far as we know so far, he's still there, so I need yeh t' get in and get that envelope off him, ASAP."

"Ain't the penalty for treason death, Merlin?" Eggsy jests, as he flicks through the files to a get a visual on the mark, information on his associates as well as his alias for the evening- Randolph Biggerstaff, a little-known member of London's elite.

"Aye," Merlin responds as Eggsy snickers. "And do try no' t' cause a scene. This is a retrieval mission, no' a Broadway performance".

"But there's no business like show business, Merlin," Eggsy remarks as he heads towards the door, flicking his chin at Roxy in acknowledgement . "And I'm already gonna to stick out like a sore thumb, fanks to that 'ideous name ya gave me".

"Luckily for yeh, Master Biggerstaff, the real yeh is currently AWOL in Bora Bora," Merlin shot back and Roxy snorted slightly.

"Well I might go AWOL after the op too Merlin, if there's a hot enuf bird," Eggsy smirked leaning against the door frame. "My name's Biggerstaff, time to prove it". He rolled his hips seductively as Roxy mimed vomiting and Merlin dismissed him with a 'Begone, yeh li'l shit'.

As if he'd have anyone else. He could joke about it and all, make all the usual immature lad jokes about fucking and tits and arse. But no. No one, not the hottest, most perfect looking bird, standing right in front of him, arse naked and begging. Not even that princess everyone thought he bedded- in truth he just hadn't the heart, ended up crying on the poor girls shoulder, bit embarassing really.

He'd tried, he'd gone out for the better part of 4 months and gotten piss-drunk until Merlin and Roxy had intervened, staggering and slurring, kissed and kissed all the birds and blokes that'd let him, clumsy, tasting like beer and wrong wrong wrong-

But No one. No one but the dead man he was still hopelessly gone for, who for some reason Eggsy still fucking hoped would magically come back. But this ain't that kind of movie, bruv.

So Eggsy goes and saves the world, and then does it all again the next day.

_Inhale. Exhale. Harry._

\----~----

Wake up. Take a piss. Shower and jerk off. Make coffee/cereal/something. Clean the house. Feed JB. Drink coffee/eat cereal/something. Get dressed. Lock up the house. Go to work. Save the world. Come home. Make dinner. Watch TV. Call Harry. Go to bed.

_Inhale, exhale. Harry._

_Inhale, exhale. Harry._

_Inhale, exhale._

 ----~----

Eggsy goes clubbing with Roxy in a Thursday night for the first time in months.

And after a couple of rounds of shots, the club sound deadening his senses, he works up the courage to kiss someone, some tall dark-haired guy who responds with slow enthusiasm. But then Eggsy's heart is beating out of his chest for all the wrong reasons and he's slurring an apology as he bolts sluggishly for the club door and out into the cool London night. He leans against the brick wall, breathing heavily, and takes a second to calm down before Roxy gets to him.

Because it wasn't Harry. _It wasn't Harry._

_Inhale, exhale. Harry._

 ----~----  

_Sup, 'Arry._

_Bolivia was a right shitfest, after all. I told Merlin tha' he shoulda sent Rox- the cartel thugs didn't believe I was the kingpin's rent boy for second. Also 'cause the wanker was already busy wiv two birds, and didn’ order a third,  but who're they t' know if he don' wanna boy too?_

_Anyway, shit got sorted in the end, but a lot messier than our resident tech whiz woulda liked. Cause rather than poison, Alejandro Elvarez-Montoya ended up wiv one of my bullets in 'is head, eventually. After I got past 'is arsehole mercs, who knocked out one o' me back teeth, the fuckers. It still hurts like shit, but that's cause the 'ospital folks didn' give me no anaesthetic when they shoved it back in me mouth. Maybe it were the language barrier, I dunno, but I think when I swore at the top of me lungs they got the point._

_I babysat Dais earlier tonight, when Mum was on 'er first shift at work. She's waitressin' now, I think I told ya, but no' at one o' them seedy as fuck joints- nah, Mum's workin' at a five-star restaurant now. Merlin mighta pulled a couple strings for 'er, but she don't need t' know tha'. Plus, with mine and 'er income, she can go back t' school durin' the day- do tha' beautician degree she's always yammerin' on about now._

_But yeah, Dais managed to colour JB in with green an’ purple markers tonight while I was doin' the washin' up. I 'fort she was watchin' 'er Dora show, but maybe I shoulda known, she was far too quiet. After Mum came 'ome at 11 it took me hours t' get the green out, ‘e's still a bit o' a weird colour but next time he gets all muddy and the like it'll probably go away._

_How ya doin, anyway? Weird enough, I sometimes hope ya gonna pick up ya phone one day cause they never found it. Well, they never found ya body, eiver, so forgive a bruv for hopin'. Sorry, I called ya bruv again. I know ya 'ate that word._

_I'm real stuck on ya, Harry. I really am. And I don' even know whether I want to get the fuck over ya, move on with me life and just keep going, or t' just pointlessly love ya 'til the day I die. S'pointless either way, ya know. Cause either way I know nuffin' good'll happen for it._

_So I'll just keep lovin' ya, I guess. Even though I know I would never 'ave a chance wi' ya. Then again, now ya gone, might 'ave more of a chance than when ya was livin', cause at least I can pretend maybe ya looked at me twice one time. Cause if ya was still 'ere, I wouldn' 'ave a chance. Not one. Cause why the fuck would ya want some fuckin' chav, all dressed up nice in a suit an' all, but still a chav at 'eart? Half the knights still don' like me, they fink I don't fit in, and they're right, 'Arry. I don't belong._

_Like I don't fucking get it. I started callin ya, leavin' these voicemails, as a copin' mechanism. T' try and stop the gaping fuckin' hole in me 'eart stop hurtin' so bad. But it don't work. It don't fucking work, cause here I am, almost 9 fuckin' months later, still arse over tits for ya. And I can't fuckin' stop. I can't. And I'm tryin' t' keep going, joking with Merlin and Rox, puttin' me 'eart and soul into the ops, acting like meself, but inside I'm breaking. I'm fucking cracking, 'Arry, I can feel it in me chest. I don' know how much longer I can take it, I- I miss you so fucking much 'Arry, I ain't ever had my heart broken like this before and I don't think I'll survive it._

_So I've got t' try. I've got t' try and get over ya, even though I'll always love ya. I'm so sorry, but I've got t'._

_Tha's me done for the night. I got anovver overnighter op tomorrow, but if I get the chance I'll call ya, eh?_

_'Night 'Arry._

_I love ya._

 ----~----

Eggsy goes into Harry's study for the first time in months other than to clean. He walks slowly around the walls, running a finger over each newspaper cover. Reads them all. Memorises them all. Every single one, a memory of Harry, the familiar voice almost whispering in his ear, a comforting narration.

" _Ah yes, that one was in '89, the royal family's jewels were stolen the same night of the Kingsman annual Christmas party. Quite an entertaining affair, considering most of the knights were, so to speak, off their faces_ -"

He felt a ridiculous grin split onto his face for a split second, because, for once, it felt like Harry was right there with him, body heat emanating from the taller frame as the older man stood inches away from Eggsy's shoulder. For just one, glorious moment, Eggsy feels at home.

And just as quickly as that moment arrives, it's gone.

_Inhale, exhale. Harry._

_Inhale, exhale._

_Inhale. exhale._

_Harry._

\----~----

_Inhale, exhale._

_Inhale, exhale._

_Inhale, exhale, Harry-_

_Inhale, exhale._

_Inhale, exhale._

\----~----

Eggsy goes clubbing again, but this time something's different.

He still get drunk embarrassingly quickly off free drinks he flirts to get. He still finds numbness in the beat of the music, in jumping up and down until his feet get sore. But this isn't 4 months ago's Eggsy, nor even last week’s.

Because when Eggsy kisses the short little brunette that asks him to dance,  it doesn't hurt half as much as it should.

But that doesn't stop Eggsy from stumbling in the front door of Harry's apartment at 3am, throwing himself face first onto Harry's bed, and crying his fucking eyes out.

\----~----

Honestly, you'd think that if you stole a multi-million dollar cheque, you'd cash it in straight away instead of leaving it on the study room desk, Eggsy thinks derisively. Premier League football managers really weren't that intellectually gifted.

It'd been almost too easy for him to break into the wealthy house, avoid the man's wife, bustling about her house, complaining about stupid shit to some friend of hers on the phone. But when the woman's toy boy had arrived, and the two had disappeared into a bedroom, Eggsy was out of there in thirty seconds flat, cheque tucked neatly away in the folds of his suit. The damn study door hadn't even been locked, and all it took was Merlin scrambling the security cameras surrounding the extensive property for Eggsy to enter and then exit the property unnoticed in less than an hour. Aces.

" _M-16's moving in on our guy, now that yeh've retrieved tha' cheque_ ," Merlin informs him as straightening his jacket, Eggsy hops into the back of the waiting Kingsman cab.

"Aww, can I at least watch them kick the fucker's arse, since I didn't get to do it meself?" He begs hopefully as a deep sigh rings in his ear, the car taking off automatically down the street and back towards HQ.

" _Fine_ ". A screen folds out frim the ceiling of the car as Eggsy hisses a contented "Yes!" followed by, "Ya the guv'nor, Merlin".

" _Tha' I am,_ " Merlin agrees amiably, as Eggsy snickers, watching the man whose check he'd just stolen be pulled from his seat and arrested in the middle of his team's football match, on national television no less." _See yeh back at HQ_ ".

And with that, the handler disconnects the comm link, leaving Eggsy in silence as the screen folds back up into the ceiling. With a contented sigh, Eggsy sits back against the plush seat of the car, turning his head to look through the car window as the English countryside flitted by, a pallet of pastel greens, browns and grey, and a faint twinge of fuck-knows- what stings his chest.

Maybe he is getting the hang of this spy thing after all.

And maybe, just maybe, he's getting over the love of his life's death.

 


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! Sorry for the chapter delay, been doing my exams D: Also warning, angst ahead, but if you think it sucks now you're going to be ready to murder me in a few chapter's time :')

_Hey, 'Arry._  
_Surprisingly, fer once, an international op didn' go to shit. Kay an' I swept into the charity gala in Austria, got the 'andprint of the mug we was trackin', used the handprint to open the safe in 'is 'otel room, and made off wif the documents on how t' overthrow a perfectly good government or some shit. I don't even know wha' they were. Some villians do it old-school, I guess, otherwise if the plans 'ad been on iCloud or some shit Merlin woulda hacked it in seconds._

_But still, a clean op is a Christmas miracle, eh? Or really, a November miracle, it ain't Christmas yet. It's startin' t' get a bit chilly though, I hafta take Daisy's coat wif me when I walk JB every few days wif her in the park. She loves holdin' tight to me ears while I give 'er a piggyback- near pulled 'em right off me 'ead  when she almost fell off me shoulders today. She's asleep now, I jus' tucked 'er in, she nodded off real sharpish af'er I gave 'er pudding. Mum'll be back soon, I 'spose- 'er shift ends 11ish, and it's quart' t' 10 now._

_Are ya hauntin' me, 'Arry? Is this what this is? Me seeing ya everywhere I go, hearing ya voice jus' enough to think s'real for a sec or two? Is this ya payback fer me royally fuckin' shit up before ya left? Or are ya tryna tell me somefin' from 'beyond the grave', as Mum says, cause that's wha' 'er psychic friend calls it when ya keep seein' ghosts._

_But I don' think ya the type t' come back an' haunt. If anyone, ya'd be hauntin' bloody Merlin, god tha'd be funny, seein' his clipboard floatin' down the hallway as 'e chases after it. But nah, he's ya best friend, if ya was hauntin' anyone, it'd be him. Not some no-good shitwipe ya picked up off the street almost 2 years ago._

_Can ya believe that, Harry? It's almost 2 years since ya bailed this pleb outta jail an' gave him a whole new life. Can barely believe it meself, sometimes, like 'm gonna wake up and it'll all be a joke, I'll walk in one mornin' and Ector'll yell "Surprise! It's a prank!". I spose it's been pretty much 3 quarters o'a year since ya went an' died on me, too. Well not jus' on me. On everyone who loved ya. Merlin, any family ya had left- did ya have any family, 'Arry? There ain't no pictures of 'em in the house or nuffin', did ya have a fallin' out wif 'em? Or are they all dead too, an ya was the last one in the line?_

_I coulda been ya family, I guess. I'da been anything that ya'd let me be to ya. Ya like a light almost, I guess, a big, bright shiny light, an' I'm one o' those bugs tha' gets drawn in an' zapped. Zap! That's me gone, but it'd be worth it, cause for just one second, I got t' see the light._

_Alright, there's Mum at the door now, I'll head back to yours in a bit once I clean up my place. Love ya, 'Arry. Goodnight._

\----~----

_Inhale. Exhale. Harry._

\----~----

_Inhale. Exhale._

_\----~----_  
Eggsy's doing another local op, cause Merlin _still_ insists on keeping him fairly close to home if he can help it. Because technically, freshly minted Kingsman agents should spend their first year doing small-time busts and missions in the UK (sometimes France, but that's it) to build experience, usually mentored and/or accompanied by an older, more experienced knight. Eggsy's usually paired with Kay, a good-humoured knight in his early thirties.

However, due to Eggsy's, and of course, Roxy's extraordinary prowess in the face of the V-Day fallout, Merlin could allow them both a touch of slack. The occasional off-shore assignment here and there, usually no more than two in a row, in order to garner experience to become used to flying solo, albeit on slightly shaky wings. And in this case, after successfully stopping some twat from breaking another hole in the ozone layer just above Bulgaria, it really was time that Eggsy did a couple more ops closer to home.

He doesn't mind it that much, Eggsy concedes as he weaves his way through the busy crowds flocking to the London Eye. Whilst overseas ops were exciting for a barely-travelled chav like him- c'mon, if you think Eggsy had ever ventured further Cornwall, you're kidding yourself-, home assignments were quicker, and meant that he could see his Mum and little Daisy in person rather than through a laptop screen. It also meant that Eggsy could spend more time at HQ, either annoying Merlin and Roxy or training in the gym, pumping iron, trying to stop himself from looking for a tall figure over his shoulder, or hearing a familiar laugh ring out of thin air.

Taking a deep breath, he lays eyes on the mark from his position on a park bench behind the Eye, watching out of the corner of his eye as the man, disguised as a tourist, strolls along through the bustling crowds towards the giant wheel. Checking his glasses one final time to confirm this is the man he's looking for, matching the facial features in his glasses, Eggsy abruptly gets up, folding the newspaper he'd been hiding behind and leaving it on the slightly damp seat. Taking up his Rainmaker, he follows Marcus Schroeder, a cyber-criminal wanted in 5 nations, at a steady pace, making sure not to alert the other man he was being followed.

"Target spotted an' on the move, Merlin," he reports smoothly as Schroeder makes a right down the The Queen's Walk, bypassing the Japanese canteen place set up on the corner.

"Observation only, Gawain," Merlin reminds him. "And place that tracker if yeh get the opportunity. I'd prefer not t' hack M-15's CCTV twice in a week, they do get rather shirty".

"Keep ya hair on," Eggsy dismisses the handler, pacing further down the boardwalk, changing his pace as the mark turns onto the path and lopes into the Jubilee Gardens. "Oh wait. Ya haven't got any".

"Piss off," came the annoyed reply, and Eggsy can't help the small smirk that latches onto his face. "An' focus on the mission, if yeh would".

"On it," Eggsy mutters as he grows closer and closer to Schroeder, slipping his hand into his pocket, ready to place the tiny tracker, similar to the one Harry put on him in the Black Prince-

Harry.

"Not now," Eggsy tells himself, bent on finishing the op, as he comes within touching distance of the cyber criminal. But the voice in his head keeps whispering. Harry, Harry. Harry.

No. No. No. No. Violently shoving the thoughts to the back of his mind, Eggsy refocuses his attention on Schroeder, picking up the pace to bump his shoulder into the man and place the tracker-

But when the cyber criminal turns his head to face Eggsy, it's with Harry's face.

"What?" He says in Harry's voice, and Eggsy is frozen to the very fucking spot, Merlin saying something heated in his ear, and all he can manage is a strangled whisper.

" 'Arry?!"

Schroeder-Harry gives Eggsy a look of disgust and strides off, no tracker in place, but he doesn't understand Harry wasn't Schroeder a second ago and Schroeder wasn't Harry-

And staring after the man now, Eggsy wonders if he pursues him and makes him turn around, if he'll see Harry's face again.

"GAWAIN!" Merlin's irate tone finally cuts through the white noise in Eggsy's head. "What th' fuck happened?! Months o' research, all down th' drain-"

But Eggsy isn't really listening. How can he be, when a familiar, tall lanky figure is sitting, back towards him on a park bench less than 4 feet away? Harry Harry Harry-

But the man who turns around does not have Harry's face when Eggsy lays a hand on his shoulder. He doesn't have Harry's face when Eggsy backs away.

But everyone else in the park does. A park full of Harry's, all walking and picnicking and laughing, and even one Harry standing by near where Eggsy has fallen to his knees on the grass, head cocked slightly, eyebrow raised, as the buzzing in Eggsy's head reaches fever pitch _HarryHarryHarryHarry HarryHARRY-_

He doesn't remember two arms hauling him bodily from the ground, supporting him back to a waiting Kingsman cab. He doesn't remember staring blankly forward the entire way home, not hearing a concerned word Roxy is saying right next to him. He doesn't remember being guided into the hospital wing, Merlin and Roxy having a heated argument by his bedside as a needle pricks the crook of his arm, eyes closing into sleep.

Eggsy doesn't remember a thing at all.

Nothing.

Nothing but Harry.

\----~----

He wakes up to blinding white lights and a bad taste in his mouth, voices murmuring fuzzily in the background until a blurry face hovers in front of his saying things he can't hear until-

"Eggsy?" Roxy comes into focus, hand gripping his in her own. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah," Eggsy mumbles raising an eyebrow, before taking a moment to look around, seeing the hospital wing, himself in a bed, and Merlin joining Roxy by the bedside. He can't remember how he got here, or into this hideous hospital robe. Weird. "Er, why exactly am I in the hospital wing? Nuffin' hurts, I don't even remember gettin' banged up on a mission-"

"Eggsy". Merlin speaks quietly but not unkindly, clutching his clipboard to his chest. Eggsy suddenly realises he can't even remember the mission- what was it on again? Something about Bulgaria? "Yeh had a bit o' an accident on a mission yesterday".

"Accident?" He peers at them, still confused as hell. "I don't remember no accident. I'm fine, see? No broken bones, no-"

"It wasn't a physical accident," Roxy interjects, her eyes sorrowful as she bites her lip. Squeezing Eggsy's hand, she takes a deep breath.

"Why're you treatin' me like I'm some-"

"Eggsy, you had a breakdown, mid-op".

There's silence in the ward for a moment before she continues. "You were tracking and observing a cyber criminal named Schroeder, but you hallucinated that it was Harry you were tracking, then we- Merlin and I- think that you started seeing his face everywhere, on everyone, and you couldn't handle it".

"No," Eggsy says derisively, shaking his head and folding his arms on his chest. "I don' remember any of tha'". It can't be true, it can't, but the gap in his memory is really fucking bothering him, why the fuck can't he remember, he isn't some senile old fart-

"Eggsy, that's another sign of a breakdown," Merlin interrupts this time, raising his eyebrows knowingly. "After traumatic events, such as loss o' a friend or loved one, sometimes, without proper help, the human brain can't cope".

"Sleeplessness, nightmares," Merlin ticks off the points on his fingers. "An' now, hallucinations. I haven't brought it up with yeh 'til now, Gawain, but I've been seein' yeh struggle with this fer some time, and quite honestly, it canna go on any longer".

"Eggsy, we've been so worried about you," Roxy's look of concern forces the young agent to avert his eyes, staring down at the hospital blanket covering his body. "We thought you'd well and truly pulled yourself out of this months ago, in August, but we could see the little signs that maybe everything wasn't okay. We just didn't know how to talk to you about it".

"So what's this then?" Eggsy says after a moment of silence in the all-white room, gritting his teeth as machines blipping quietly by his bedside, raising his gaze to the two agents in front of him. "Some sort of intervention or somefin?"

"Yes, Eggsy," Merlin meets his eyes solemnly. "This is an intervention, because I can't have yeh on active duty like this".

"What the fuck?" It bursts out of his mouth before he can stop it, eyes flicking between the two figures. "You can't be serious, Merlin-"

"Eggsy, you're not well-" Roxy tries to calm him, hand in his but Eggsy's having fucking none of it, thanks very much, wrenching away from her grasp as he sits bolt upright in the cot.

"I'm dealing with shit all right, fanks, now if ya both wanna mind ya own fuckin' busine-"

They can't do this, they can't, Kingsman is his everything, his last connection to Harry-

"Eggsy!" Merlin's tone is sharp as the younger agent glares at him breathing hard, the tell-tale buzzing that had begun to build up in his ears slowly dissipating.

"You're on non-negotiable leave, until I bloody well see fit, yeh hear me?" The agent in question clenches his jaw, staring daggers at the bedspread, but doesn't answer back.

"My job is, firs' an' foremost, t' make sure the lot of yeh are in workin' order before I go sendin' yeh away t' save the world". Merlin's voice returns to it's normal pitch. "And I can't expect yeh t' perform at optimal level if yeh not alrigh' yehself".

"I miss Harry too, Eggsy." At the very mention of his name Eggsy feels a lump rise in his throat. "He was my best friend. But it's time to let go".

"So," he continues as Eggsy opens his mouth to argue. "Yeh'll being going t' see one o' our shrinks, 3 times a week, no exceptions, and no ops until I say so. But yer perfectly welcome t' still come into HQ any time yeh like, since yeh here all the time anyway. Do we have an agreement?"

After another momentary pause, Eggsy nods reluctantly, and the tension in the room drops slightly.

"Good," Merlin announces, giving his clipboard a tap. "I'll send yeh the details for yeh firs' appointment, which is tomorrow, and yeh free to t' discharge yehself from here whenever". The ops handler gives Eggsy a tight smile, before turning on his heel and striding out the automatic doors of the infirmary, Roxy on his heels.

And Eggsy is left alone with the maze of his thoughts.

\----~----

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

That's what they all think he's got, but Eggsy's calling bullshit. He hasn't been through that much bad shit- yes, life'd been a bitch sometimes, but PTSD was for the older marines that ran recruit training when Eggsy'd joined up. It was for people who'd survived wars, bomb blasts, for refugees, for people with real issues.

Not Eggsy, a rough chav in gentleman's clothing, who just happened to be in love with a man who got shot in the head. Nah, they're all full of shit. Right?

The psychiatrist, a tiny little woman with spiky glasses and a bob that reminds him a bit of his mum and Judi Dench combined, she has to be wrong. His dad dying, shit with Dean, they weren't the beginnings of PTSD, delinquency, dope and drinking weren't his coping mechanisms. And Harry's death wasn't the final push that sent him over. Harry's death wasn't the last in a list of shit that'd been bubbling up inside him, slowly but steadily. Harry's death wasn't the thing that he was still torn over, halfway through closure but still clinging to the ghost of a pinstripe suit and some painfully long legs he was just waiting to walk around a corner.

Eggsy knows how to be an agent.  
The marines taught how to follow orders, to hold a gun, to march in line.  
Kingsman taught him how to be a gentleman, to kill a man 73 different ways and come out from a fistfight without a hair out of place.  
Living with Dean taught him how to be independent, to look out for his Mum and Daisy, to steal loaves of bread and go hungry if it meant they could eat, to dodge blows as best he could and stay the fuck out of the way.  
But nobody taught him for what it felt like to fall in love. No one told him how to stop himself from falling in love with Harry Hart.

And nobody told him how much it would fucking hurt once he was gone.  
\----~----  
_Hey 'Arry._

_I'm sorry I didn' call last night, had a lotta shit t' think about. Mostly you, actually. I dunno if dead folks can read thoughts, cause if ya did ya'd know way too much abou' me, but tha' I been doin' a shitload of thinkin'._

_So I'm pretty sure ya know wha' happened yesterday morning, but jus' in case ya don't by some miracle, apparently I had some sorta hallucination of ya, and then had a panic attack. Thought you was the mark, then that ya were all the people in the Jubilee Gardens or some shit. I don' remember it, if ya were wondering. There's a great big bloody hole in me thoughts, then last thing I remember is coming home Wednesday morning af'er Bulgaria, callin' ya and goin' t' bed. Next thing I know I wake up in the HQ infirmary, everyone treatin' me like I'm made of glass 'cause apparently I ain't alright._

_Ok, I'm gonna be real honest wif ya. I know I ain't alright. I know something's wrong up in me head, but I'm dealin' wif it by meself. Don' need no interventions or any o' tha' shit, or counselling or therapy, cause me counsellor lady reckons this shit ain't jus' cause of you, she finks all my shit started way back when Dad died, about needin' a father figure or some shit, I wanted t' piss meself laughin', cause no offense, 'Arry, I didn' see ya as no father figure, no' unless ya wanted me t' call ya 'Daddy'._

_I know wha' I need, but I can't 'ave it. Cause I need you, 'Arry. I need you. I need ya so fuckin' bad, which is why I fink I see ya everywhere, why I call ya every night, why I can' get ya outta me fuckin' 'ead. Sometimes I bloody wish I could, but I can't. If ya do listen to these messages, ya probably sick of me yammerin' on 'bout how much I love ya and all tha', but this is the only way I cope._

_So yeah. No active duty 'til Merlin says otherwise. Fuck, it pisses me off. And heaps I' therapy and time off, 'til I stop seein' ya everywhere I go, and hear in' ya voice in me ear._

_This is killing me t' say this, 'Arry, but I gotta stop this. Callin' ya, I mean. I'll probs call ya every now and then, when I really need ya, but, for once, I think I'm gonna try and listen t' the people around me. I know what ya gonna say, ya'd say "What've ya done with Eggsy, cause this isn't the Eggsy I know," like ya did that one time I surprised ya the mornin' before the final test, when I got ya that clunky old record player cause ya one didn't work no more. But yeah, for me own health, as much as its hurting, I gotta try. It prob'ly won't work, I said that a couple weeks back and I still called ya every night. But this is a proper effort. Baby steps, though._

_Don't think it's cause I don't love ya, 'Arry. I'll always love ya. But I gotta let go._

_I gotta let you go._

_\----~----_  
Eggsy begins a new routine _._

Wake up. Take a piss. Shower and jerk off. Make coffee/cereal/something. Clean the house. Feed JB. Drink coffee/eat cereal/something. Get dressed. Lock up the house. Go to work/ the shrink. Spend time with Dais and Mum. Come home. Make dinner. Watch TV. Go to bed. Try not to think of Harry.

_Inhale. Exhale. Harry- no._

_Inhale. Exhale._

_Inhale. Exhale._

_Inhale. Exhale. Harry- no._

_Inhale. Exhale._

He's still living in Harry's house. Baby steps, after all. Maybe soon, he'll move out, Merlin will put the place up for sale, and soon someone new will live here- no.

Yes.

Baby steps. Don't get ahead of yourself.

For the first time in 10 months, Eggsy doesn't go to Harry's bed. He fights it, and fights it, the urge for comfort.

He lasts 4 sleepless hours before he gives up.

_Inhale. Exhale. Harry- no._

Inhale. Exhale.

\----~----

  
By the end of the week, Eggsy is sleeping in the spare room.

 

By the end of November, Merlin clears him for active duty.

  
\----~----  
"Harry!"  
He wakes up to sweat-soaked sheets, looking widely left and right, for the man he just saw lying on the ground in front of him, bullet fresh in his brain. Fuck, he hasn't had a nightmare in two weeks, why is this happening, he was improving, his chest is tight, he can't breathe-

Yes he can. His psychiatrist's voice in his head. Breathing techniques, Eggsy, breathing techniques. He breathes, and breathes, the tightness loosens, but inside, he is raw.

Alone, in the dark of the spare room, Eggsy stumbles into the hallway and collapses onto Harry's bed, curling up in the foetal position and sobs until his ribs hurt.

Harry. Harry.

Harry.

\----~----  
On Christmas Eve, Eggsy calls Harry, but hangs up. Then calls again.

By the New Year, Eggsy keeps forgetting to say goodnight.

Mid-January, he has finally trained his heart not to skip a beat every time he sees a tall, dark-haired man.

By the beginning of February, Eggsy has only called Harry 3 times. He hasn't called in a month.

And today, 8th of February, on the way home from a French op in Versailles, Harry isn't the first thought on Eggsy's mind. For the first night ever, he sleeps at his own townhouse.

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

No Harry.

\----~----

"Thanks for sitting for me again, babe". Michelle kisses his cheek, pulling her son close. "I really should start paying ya, ya do it so much!" She jokes, patting her back.

"Nah, Mum, I enjoy it," Eggsy reassures her, returning the tight embrace as he stands in the threshold of his apartment, the scent of his Mum's now more pricey perfume filling his nostrils, foreign, but comforting. For it means that she can afford things, what with her new job and plans to study.

"Anything to spend time with my flower," he pulls back and grins, shooting a glance at the again wiped-out Daisy on the sofa, sharing a knowing warm look with Michelle.

"Ya know, Egg, ya look a bit different".

"Really?" Eggsy says, bemused, running a hand through his hair nervously as his mum studies him narrowing her eyes a bit. "In wha' way?"

"I dunno," she murmurs, the impenetrable gaze making him slightly more apprehensive.

"Ya just seem happier," she brightens after a moment, the corners of her eyes crinkling slightly. "And it makes me real pleased to see that, babe. Cause I was a bit worried for ya a while back, ya looked peaky an' all-"

"M'fine, Mum," Eggsy reassures her with a small smile, cutting off her rambling, to which she replies with an automatic, "Don't interrupt me, Eggsy".

"But it's good to know ya all good," she continues after his apology, beaming at him, a hand reaching up to cup his cheek. "I just wanted the best for my Eggs, and now ya got it!"She gives him a once over. "Happy and healthy,with a proper good job, I'm so proud of ya. Everything's going sunny-side up from now on, mmm?"

"Yep, sunny-side up," Eggsy promises, a little emotionally at her kind words, and bids his Mum a fond "G'night," as she scoops up the slumbering Daisy and walks out the door, shutting it with a soft click. Grabbing his keys and a jacket, Eggsy locks up the house and follows soon after. He's got a couple of things he left at Harry's that he needs to grab, plus he's got to clean while he has the chance- he's back on a plane first thing tomorrow morning to Mauritius, a 2 week op, something about human trafficking.

The night air cools his face as Eggsy steps out into the dark, dodging past the odd other person wandering around at 11:30pm on a Tuesday night. Today wasn't so bad, another quick op, only took him two hours to infiltrate a building in London's business precinct and rescue some blue-blood guy being held hostage by a crazed bank manager.

A text buzzes through Eggsy's phone, and fishing it out of his pocket as he walks, he realises it's from Kay. Opening the text, he chuckles to himself at the selfie it contains-  Roxy passed out on the seat of the Kingsman jet, Kay grinning into the camera, dark curls askew. "Sweet dreams," the text reads, and still grinning at Roxy's hilarious snoring face, Eggsy replies "Sleeping Beauty?", and saves the picture to his camera roll- boy, was he going to give Roxy shit about this.

They'd become a trio of sorts- Eggsy, Kay and Roxy. Kay, who's real name was Rob, was the youngest of the knights when Eggsy and Roxy were recruited, having just turned 30, and was an all-round ace guy, very good-natured and shared the younger two agents' wicked sense of humour. It also helped that like Eggsy, Rob too was from humble beginnings, a family of florists, and therefore didn't really fit in with other high-born knights. And Roxy, being the only female knight in the UK, and Eggsy's best friend, became the 3rd member. Between the three of them, Eggsy was often surprised that Merlin hadn't had a nervous breakdown, what with managing both the temporary Arthur role and his usual work.

Another couple walks past, holding hands, and with a rush Eggsy realises today is Valentine's Day. A whole year since Harry died, wait over a year- it was night time now, not the early afternoon. His gut clenches for a moment, then relaxes. Inhale. Exhale.

Approaching the street corner, Eggsy turns into Stanhope Mews South, making a beeline for the townhouse at the very end of the lane. Fumbling for his keys in his jacket pocket, he suddenly realises the lights are on inside, and freezes.

  
Pressing an ear to the door, he listens intently for any sound. Silence. Eggsy turns the knob- and the door opens. It's already unlocked. Fuck.

Immediately transitioning into agent mode, Eggsy pulls his gun from the waistband of his tracksuit pants- it's habitual of him to carry a gun now, and he'd be an idiot not to, because sometimes, the arseholes he spends his life dispatching can track you down- and kicks the door open, pointing his gun to check for incoming opponents. The hallway is bare, no sign of life, and moving soundlessly, Eggsy moves through the first floor, checking every room, to find each one empty.

Relaxing his shoulders slightly, Eggsy pauses for a moment to exhale quietly. Maybe the fuse box malfunctioned, and the lights flicked on by themselves.

That thought calms him for a moment, until a thump sounds upstairs, probably from Harry's study, by the sounds of it, and Eggsy's back on high alert. If it's a burglar, he's going to kick the living shit out of them, he decides, approaching the stairs with caution, and silently making his way up them step by step, hand still clutched around his gun.

They're probably after Harry's computer, he realises with a surge of anger and he steps foot in the upstairs hallway. A shadow moves across the study doorway, and Eggsy is motionless again, before it moves and he can creep forward again. The doorway is open, he can't see who's inside, but there was only one set of footsteps crossing the room, so whoever it is, they're alone. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1-

Eggsy jumps into the room, cries "Oi! Stop! Hands up!" pointing his gun towards the figure standing on the balcony, leaning against the railing.

But then he notices something. The combination of broad shoulders and a slim waist. The bespoke suit, covered in filth and grime, but still recognizable. The waves of dark chestnut hair. The long giraffe legs.

His hands begin to tremble uncontrollably, the gun juddering as Eggsy chokes out, chest tight, "Turn around. Slowly".

The figure begins to turn around, no, no, it can't be. No. NO.

Harry fucking Hart. It's Harry. It's fucking Harry. Gaunt, dirt-stained like he just crawled out of his grave, a bloody cotton patch covering his right eye, but the left one widening slightly, mouth slightly parted.

".....Egg-sy".

The gun falls to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Also do you guys find the way I write Eggsy's accent difficult to read? Does he seem out of character? Any feedback is appreciated, just leave me a comment :D ❤️ Also I'm imagining Agent Kay, or Rob, as Aidan Turner in case anyone was wondering :) Here he is : I'll be adding at least one other character too during this fic (They'll be a Kingsman too, don't worry) and I'll post of photo of the celebrity I imagine to be them when the time is right :) Thanks for reading! I'll try and post a new chapter ASAP!


	3. III

"Egg-sy....Egg.....sy,"

Harry's voice sounds disjointed and distorted but familiar, but Eggsy is rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle, say a word. His legs are beginning to tremble, and Harry lurches- wait, why is he lurching towards him? What the fuck?- before straightening.

"Who are you?" The tone is sharp, and finally clear as Harry suddenly straightens up, approaching the still immobile Eggsy, peering at him suspiciously. "And what are you doing in my-"

_ What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck _

"Egg-sy," he interrupts himself halfway through his own sentence, the recognition from before returning to his face as his eyes widen, emotion-filled. Harry's body seems to crumple in on itself again, and he staggers as he walks, catching hold of the corner of the desk "M-my...d-d-de ...ar b-b-b...-"

There's something very wrong, very fucking wrong-

"I asked you-.....Egg......sy........-who are you? And what are you doing in my house-"

Eggsy's limbs finally seem to work as he gives Harry a quick but effective punch in the jaw, sending the taller man toppling onto the carpeted floor with a soft thump. The hysteria inside him is reaching breaking point as he dials for HQ with shaky trembling fingers on his phone, falling to his knees to roll Harry over, who is thankfully out cold. But is it a good thing Eggsy is it what the fuck is going on how is he alive-

"Customer Complaints, how may I help you-"

"Igraine please it's me Eggsy I mean Gawain we've got a code, fuck, code I don't even know fucking what, this isn't a "Billiards Invitation" or even "Order Cancellation" this is so much fucking worse get me Merlin as soon as fucking possible-"

Eggsy's stammering and sobbing embarrassingly into the phone at the poor handler on the night shift, he barely even registers the line's been changed until Merlin's in his ear callin his name and asking what's wrong, why isn't he at home it's midnight for fuck's sake he has an op tomorrow morning-

"It's fucking Harry, Merlin-"

"Eggsy, I'm callin' yer psych 1st thing tomorrow, another hallucination ain't good-"

"NO you wanker check the surveillance in Harry's fucking house, it's fucking Harry, he's ALIVE-"

Silence.

A strangled "My  _ fucking God."  _ is all he hears through the speaker, before very hoarsely, Merlin advises Eggsy to sit tight, but Eggsy's not really listening because he's shaking uncontrollably, as his chest constricts while Harry's prone form lies on the floor beside him,  _ nonono this can't be happening- _

_ He just wants to touch him to hold him, look at his face he's sleeping-He's back what the fucking fuck how is he back- _

Deep breaths, inhale, exhale,  _ HarryHarryHarryHarryHARRYHARRY _

His head is swimming and he can't breathe fuck he can't breathe, there's lead in his lungs, no room for air whole the dead man he loves lies on the carpet beside him but Eggsy can't touch him, he'll melt away, oh god the gun on the floor is this another nightmare did he shoot Harry-

_ BreathebreathebreatheIcan'tIcan't _

_ I CAN'T FUCKING BREATHE _ .

\----~----

Eggsy has no concept of time or movement, but somehow he finds himself in his chair at the Round Table in the dining room  doors firmly shut, a watchful Roxy holding his hand. HQ has a tense undertone, filled with urgency, and there's far more movement in the halls than there usually is at 2:43am.

She must have noticed he seems more aware, that the now calm breathing has picked up slightly, because the first question from her lips is his name.

"Eggsy?" He could interpret it a thousand ways, analyse her tone and the look on her face. Is she asking if he's listening? If he's alright? but they both know what the obvious answer. Is he ready to talk about it? Maybe. He's got to see if his vocal cords have untangled themselves from the lump in his throat.

So Eggsy meets her eyes, and without a word, Roxy pulls him to her as he breaks out in full, wracking sobs, hands gripping tight to her back. Normally, being a grown man, he'd be fucking embarrassed as shit, crying into his best friend’s shoulder while the surveillance cameras are rolling, but right now he's beyond the point of caring. He can't remember half of what's happened in the last two hours or so, he can't think of shit but Harry.

Harry. The gent who walked into his life and changed it for the better, only to blow a fucking atomic bomb through it exactly 365 days ago. Had sent Eggsy into the biggest tailspin of his life, sent him half-mad, had almost cost him his job and his sanity. 6 fucking months of counselling, a PTSD diagnosis, and all the worrying and concern of his family and friends. And now he was back. Harry Hart was fucking back. What the actual fuck.

Eggsy registers the sound of the Dining Room doors opening, and a male voice ring out in the silence only broken by sobs. Roxy replies with something, patting Eggsy on the back as he continues to sniffle into her sweater-clad shoulder, but he can't make out what. His mind is blank. Blank, blank- _ HarryHarryHarryHarry, _ stretching his hands out towards him as he stutters Eggsy's name-

Eventually, his tears dry up, and his ragged breathing slows again, and pulling his head from the comfort of Roxy's shoulder, rubbing at his eyes, Eggsy squints around the room.

Roxy's still sitting in her place at the Table to his right, but a familiar, dark curly-haired head now paces backwards and forwards slowly along the other side, hastily-thrown on street clothes rumpled .

"When'd you get here?" Eggsy croaks at Rob, voice hoarse as the other man looks up, relief plain on his face.

"I was there when we picked you up from Galahad's. I see you've finished your spiel as a human fountain," the agent teases lightly, walking around the table to lean against its side.

"Fuck off," Eggsy replies quietly, but there's a ghost of a smile and a pinprick of light in his eyes.

"Do you want to talk?" Roxy presses gently, hand on Eggsy's shoulder, and Eggsy barks out a laugh.

"What much is there t' talk about? A dead man's walkin' again".

"We know," Rob answered passively, running a hand through his slightly dishevelled mop of hair.  "But it's quite evident that you're not okay".

"Eggsy, we know...how much Harry meant to you," Roxy says carefully, and Eggsy doesn't doubt for a second his best friend knows. Of course she would, Rox wasn't blind, she'd likely twigged on from Day 1 that the feelings the chav she'd just met had for his mentor weren't platonic. She'd never confronted him though, not even after that panic attack in the Jubilee Gardens. He didn't know if Rob knew, but he was sure to have caught a vibe. Merlin probably knew too, he realised with a stab of ice in his gut, but that hadn't been a problem when Harry was good and dead. What if all the knights knew?!

And then Eggsy's angry. White hot fucking angry, right royal pissed. "Well how the fuck can I be ok?" He spits, rising up from his chair, sending it backwards with a thump.

"How the actual  _ fuck _ can I be ok, when I've spent the be'er part of 5 months tryin' to move on with me life?! I went to a fuckin' shrink for months, still goin' to one actually, t' try an' move on, and now all'ova sudden, I'm knocked on me arse yet again, an' it always comes back t' Harry fuckin' Hart!"

And then the fire in him suddenly dies, and Eggsy sways forward, leaning his hands on the cool wood of the table, silence from Roxy and Rob.

"M'sorry," he says finally, his words breaking through the stillness of the room. "Ain't ya fault this has fucked me up so much".

Because it isn't their fault. It isn't their fault he roused them from their warm beds at some unearthly hour, throwing on rumpled clothes and- was Roxy wearing one of   _ Merlin's  _ sweaters? Fuck if he knows, not the point but anyway- blinking sleep from their eyes, hurrying through London. All because he, Eggsy, couldn't cope with the sight of a man he used to know, and just had to have a stupid  fucking panic attack.

I'm a righ' mess all ova again".

"We know, Eggsy," Roxy says soothingly, shooting him a small smile as she laces her fingers together.. "But we're here for you".

"We're your only friends, you sad twat, who else is gonna put up with your shit?" Rob adds, Eggsy rolling his eyes humourously as the warmth briefly returns to the room.

"I 'spose you lot 'ave seen the tapes then?" Eggsy begins, looking between his companions, who nod ruefully.

"You're not the only one in shock, mate," Rob responded grimly, shifting slightly on the table edge. "You were pretty out of it when Roxy and I rocked up with Merlin. I've known Galahad, sorry, Harry maybe a year or two more than you both-" he gestured from Eggsy to Roxy. "And he was a great guy, but I don't think anyone expected him to suddenly come back from the dead, on the anniversary of his death and all".

"Bit dramatic, innit? Typical 'Arry." Eggsy's mouth quirked up slightly, before drooping again. "That was the worst panic attack I've 'ad, though. M'sorry ya saw me like that," he continued, shushing his friends as they began to protest.

" 'E's not alright though". His tone turned significantly darker as the images of Harry hours earlier replayed in his head, one after the other. "S'like he was out o' it or somefin'. One minute 'e was all stutterin' and knew 'oo I was, next 'e was  fine, but didn' recognise me at all".

"Merlin's got the Sorceresses looking at Harry right now, Eggsy," Roxy informed him, and Eggsy felt a welcome rush of relief.  _ Thank fuck _ . Morgana and Morgause, or Stephen and Mel,  were Kingsman's very own version of healers, a positive spin on the rather dark Arthurian legend. Having little to no regard for his own well-being on assignment, Eggsy had often ended up in the infirmary, under their care, much to their exasperation. Harry was in very well-skilled hands.

"You did him a right number though, what with punching him in the jaw," Rob recalls, smiling wryly at Eggsy as the younger agent's shoulders relax slightly. "We watched back the footage in here about an hour and a half ago with Merlin and some other woman that our ops coordinator didn't bother to introduce".

"Don't remember," Eggsy shrugs, shuddering slightly as he recalls the sensation of the panic attack. The iron bars around his ribs squeezing and squeezing his chest so tight he couldn't breathe, heart beating out of his chest-  _ Shit. _ He shakes his head to dispel the unwanted memories to the recesses of his consciousness.

He still has so many questions he wants answered, so many fucking questions. How the fuck was Harry still alive? A bullet to the head spelled death, even for a spy of Harry's standards. And then, the more pressing question- where the hell had he been for the past year?

The double doors of the Dining Room creak open, and Merlin steps through, clipboard at hand, massaging the bridge of his nose. The poor bloke looks like death, Eggsy notes with a pang of empathy. Because shit, Eggsy wasn't the only one suffering- Merlin was Harry's best friend of many years, and though he was loathe to show it, the tech wizard had been deeply affected by the loss of his long-time companion. And also by said friend's surprise comeback, if the extra lines on the acting Arthur/quartermaster's forehead and the darker rings under his eyes have anything to say for it.

There's an older woman following behind him, dressed in scarlet red, of all colours. Sharp-eyed and tight-lipped, with a thin frame but tall, she stands silently as Merlin speaks.

"Lancelot, Kay," Merlin addresses Roxy and Rob, who immediately join Eggsy stand in the presence of their acting leader. "Gawain, good to see you're back with us".

"Merlin," Eggsy acknowledges, with a nod of his head, and an intense gaze  passes between the two men.

"Here's what's going t' happen," the older man begins, eyes moving between the knights.

"Critical Round Table Meeting at 0700 sharp. All the knights will be there, holographically or not. All yeh questions will be answered then," he continues as Eggsy opens his mouth.

"Merlin-"

"Gawain, questions later," He reprimands Eggsy, tine with a steely edge, and Eggsy grounds his teeth but quiets.

"Go home and get some rest," The handler directs them. "Either tha' or head up to the lounge and start brewing a shitload of coffee".

He turns on his heel and makes stride out the double doors when Eggsy calls after him "How's 'Arry?"

Merlin pauses for a moment. "He'll live," he says eventually, meeting Eggsy's eyes, before departing, red-clad woman right behind him.

\----~----

_ You're alive, you bastard. You're fucking alive. _

_ Ya just had to prove Valentine wrong, eh? Survive outta pure spite for that motherfucker. I woulda probably done the same thing, I spose, bu' he didn' shoot me in the head, eh? _

_ Ya scared the living shit outta me though, coming back like that. On the anniversary of ya death, too- I always knew ya were a melodramatic bastard. Gave me a panic attack, biggest one I've had ever, cheers. Poor bloody Rox and Rob had t' drag me outta ya study and' shove me in the car t' drive back t' the shop after I calmed a bit 'cos I was so outta it. I dunno if ya've ever 'ad a panic attack, 'Arry, but they're pretty shit.  Ya were so confused though, 'fore I knocked ya out. Sorry by the way. But  I got no idea how ya even found ya way back t' Stanhope Mews from wherever ya was. _

_ Speakin' of, Merlin held tha' Round Table Meeting about ya tha' he planned, t' fill everyone in. So turns out when Valentine shot ya, he didn't do a stellar job- he did shoot ya in the head, bu' the bullet missed the crucial bits. Pretty shit shot, he was. _

_ So yeah, ya got a recoverin' moderate  brain injury, which probably explains why ya were in '2 minds' or whatever Merlin calls it. He reckons after some therapy ya should be right, but he dunno if ya'll eva been the same Harry. Like if ya can return t' doin' ops, or even just bein' a part of Kingsman I guess. But we gotta be positive, I guess. _

_ It's really shittin' Merlin tha' he dunno where ya been for a year though. He's got no clue where ya been holed up, since ya have no idea- he reckons tha' some twats grabbed ya after V-Day, did that shoddy job of stitchin' ya back up with that godawful scar on ya 'ead- unless ya stitched it yaself. Cause the stitches were pretty shitty, but if ya was knocked out how're ya gonna patch yaself back up? Dunno, maybe whoever it was decided t' keep ya in case ya was someone valuabl, and 'cos ya was confused.. Which ya are, of course. But why would they release ya? Don't make much sense, in Merlin's opinion. _

_ Ya probably wonderin' why I'm callin' ya, by the way. They can't find ya phone, reckon it got lost in the chaos if tha' church. Or it broke. Who the fuck knows. But no one has it, so I can breathe a sigh o' relief, and keep leavin' ya these voicemails. _ _ No one's gonna hear 'em. Well, no one but me an' you. _

_ Oh yeah, and I had no idea we had a Lady o' the Lake position at Kingsman! But Nimue, the woman in the red, that's 'er. Apparently I met her as soon as I arrived at Kingsman at like 1:30 in the morning, but I was outta it so I fink I'm forgiven. Rox told me about her- so apparently the Lady o' the Lake lives in this lake in the Arthur stories, and she helps wif all his quests an' stuff, and gives 'im 'is special sword, whatever it's called. Well Nimue don't live underwater, but there's this tiny li'l island out t' sea a bit off the coast, an' apparently that's 'er home. She's supposed t' be kept a secret, apparently, security risk or somefin' since she's a higher rank than Merlin normally is. But yeah, whenever there's bad shit goin' on, Merlin gives 'er a call, an' she'll help us figure shit out. Reckon he called her on V-Day, too? "Hey Nimue, shit's fucked. Stay on ya island. Bye". _

_ But yeah, from the sound o' it, she reckons we should try and get ya recovered, then she'll let us know what t' do. Merlin sent Gareth on my op to Auckland instead, felt a bit bad but Merlin reckons I been through enuf shit today. _

_ I'm a right mess, 'Arry. How do ya always knock me for six like tha'? I'm so angry, sad and happy wif ya all at the same time, an' it's righ' fuckin' confusing for a bruv. I'm pissed cause ya took a year t' come back, I dunno if tha's ya fault or ya choice or whoever fixed ya up held ya back, but I spent so long tryna get over ya, all for nuffin'. But then I'm upset cause ya don't seem the same and tha' look in ya eyes when ya recognised me a couple times killed me, 'Arry. I still haven' visited cause I ain't ready- and I dunno how ya gonna be. But then I'm so fuckin' happy. Ya back. Back from the dead an' all, ya came back t' me. I get t' see ya again, which is all I ever wanted. Now I just gotta get up the courage t' talk t' ya in person. An’ hope tha’ ya’ll be alright. _

_ Alright, tha's me done, it's been a long day an' I need a good sleep. Might have an op tomorrow. _

_ Goodnight, 'Arry. Hope ya sleepin' well. _

  
  


_ I love you. _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it is I again. Quick(ish) chapter update for a change! Apologies for such sin, and the hurting of the precious Egg :3  
>  I know I'm introducing a few new characters here and there, no one major yet, hope you all don't mind :) Picture them however you like, but if they're particularly crucial I'm more likely to add a photo of the actor/actress I imagine them as :D As always, feel free to leave feedback! Thanks for reading <3


	4. IV

Eggsy can't bear to be near Harry, however much it hurts.

He tells himself it's because he's still in shock, too raw from the events of Valentine's Day, so he takes back-to-back op after back-to-back op. Venice. Mozambique. Berlin. Krakow. Buenos Aires. Merlin doesn't ask why, why the sudden urge to work harder than ever, catching the bad guys and stopping their evil plans. But maybe the tech wizard understands that right now, Eggsy needs an outlet- and saving the world is that outlet.

Another new routine is adopted, but it's more erratic and less planned. Ask about Harry, do the op, save the world, think about seeing Harry, hang around HQ, argue with Rob, Rox and Merlin about seeing Harry, go home/stay the night at HQ, think about Harry. All in no particular order.

When he does rotate home, Eggsy tries to work up the courage to go and see the living dead man. He waits outside the infirmary for hours, knotting his hands together, trying to fogure out what he'll say when he walks through that door.

 _"Hey Harry, sorry I haven't visited, been too busy coming to terms with the fact you're alive!_ "

Funny, isn't it? That Eggsy can let it all out every night to Harry's voicemail box on the older man's still-MIA phone, but he can't string a sentence together for shit in person.

Soon, he tells himself.

But soon isn't coming quickly enough.

\----~----

_I forgot the sound of ya voice yesterday night. For a whole hour. It near fuckin' killed me. I spent ages trying t' remember the things ya said t' me, even what ya said when ya rocked up last week. But it don' sound right. I tried, I tried to fuckin' hard..._

_I wanna come and see ya 'Arry. It's killin' me stayin' so far away. I just wanna be near ya, see tha' ya alright._

_But I can't. 'Cos I'm scared, I'm scared tha' this is all too good t' be true. I'm scared of if I look in ya eyes, I dunno what I'm gonna find._

_I dunno if you, the man I love, are gonna recognise me. An' it's breakin' my 'eart._

_This is all my fault._

_\----~----_

Harry's been asking for him, Merlin tells him a week later. "Eggsy," is one if the first words out of his mouth in the moments of bumbling coherence, when Harry remembers everything, not just up to June 13, 1996. But yeah, Eggsy's got no idea what to say. And even if he did plan something, he'd probably forget it the second he walked through the infirmary doors.

Don't think he doesn't care. Of course he fucking does. He asks after Harry daily when he speaks to Morgana and Morgause, and every day they tell him the same, heartbreaking two words. "No change". Because Harry's been living in the HQ infirmary for almost 3 weeks now, and there's still no word on him making a full recovery, because the man doesn't even remember what happened in the last year.

He's doing physio for the wobbles in his limbs when he's 'Current Harry' as Merlin calls it, speech therapy for the gaps between syllables when he speaks. 90's Harry, who appears at any given time, walks fine, speaks fine- but doesn't remember anything from the last 19 years. 90's Harry doesn't remember Eggsy. And Eggsy's shit-scared that eventually when he does visit, it'll be 90s Harry who's there.

So he avoids Harry Hart at all costs. But he watches his physio sessions in the gymnasium. Listens to his speech when he hobbles through the halls, guided by a patient Healer. Always close by, always caring and wondering and wishing, but always out of sight.

Out of sight, because the guilt bubbling inside his gut clouds his better judgement.

\----~----

"You should go and visit Harry, Eggsy," Roxy tells him when they're slumped on her leather sofa at 4am, fresh off a flight from Ukraine. Eggsy's Mum has JB right now, and he doesn't want to go back to Harry's empty townhouse or his own silent apartment alone right now. So he'll crash here- Roxy has a spare room.

"I should," Eggsy acknowledges, rubbing his sleep-filled eyes as another blaring advertisement plays on the TV, Roxy's woollen rug of a dog curled into his side. "But I can't".

"You can," Roxy says softly, as her best friend avoids her eyes. "Merlin says that he asks for you every day".

He sits in silence for a moment, a rock of guilt rolling in the pit of his stomach. _His fault. His fault. His fault_. "I know he does," Eggsy replies finally closing his eyes and leaning back as an alert flashes on Roxy's phone, the bright light stinging.

"Merlin says he's found a lead on who took Harry". She sounds surprised, and Eggsy shoots bolt upright again.

"Something in the surveillance footage, nothing major, but if you're amiable he wants to send you on an investigative assignment to the Church soon".

"I'm in," Eggsy says automatically, turning his attention to the television program again, but he's still deep in thought. He hasn't been to South Glade Mission Church, in truth- it was pretty hallowed ground, back when Harry was dead. But if Merlin thinks they can find a lead as to who shot Harry.....Eggsy's knuckles whiten as he clenches his fists.

He was willing to do anything and everything, even if it meant going back to _that_ place. As long as he was one step closer to ripping the bastards limb from limb.

So Eggsy calms himself with breathing techniques, and goes back to ribbing Roxy about her relationship with Merlin. Because let's be real, no one looks that happy when they get a text from their boss.

Anything as an excuse not to face the man he had caused so much suffering.

\----~----

The church is smaller than Eggsy expected.

It looked far bigger in Harry's glasses cam when he strode inside, white walls brighter than he recalls in the morning sunshine. The church itself is gutted- just a big, floorboarded room with fancy windows, all the furniture removed. There's graffiti on the walls from vandals, and one of those stained-glass panes is smashed, probably because some wannabe KKK member got thrown through it, from memory.

He's chased up Merlin's lead, found out that the number plate in the surveillance footage is a company car, for Phantom Pharmaceuticals. But why the fuck is a pharmaceuticals company showing up to collect a dying man, putting him in the back of their van, and driving away?

Almost makes no sense, Eggsy decides, as Merlin sends him through another file on his Glasses. Almost- except Phantom Pharmaceuticals has a parent company. The Valentine Corporation, to be exact. So looking around the empty church, the sounds of violence and death echoing in his ears, Eggsy feels the bile rise in his throat. He could have prevented this, if he didn't fuck shit up. The people were sick motherfuckers, but they didn't deserve to die in the name of an experiment. He could have saved Harry, saved him from a bullet to the brain, but one fuckup led to an argument which led to Eggsy watching the man he loved die through a laptop screen.

Standing outside South Glade Mission Church, in the very same place Harry Hart died, Eggsy has to fight with every fibre of his being not to flick the setting on his wristwatch to 'Flamethrower' and burn the fucking place down.

\----~----

_Hey, 'Arry._

_M'gonna visit ya soon, I swear. I was plannin' on goin' today bu' then I got caught up wif this investigation thing. I will come soon, though. I got everyone tellin' me ya asking for me, an' Rob jus' told me point blank that feelin' guilty ain't an excuse cause ya'll have forgiven me anyway. But ya know this is my fault, all of this, so why would ya forgive me? I can't even forgive me. I'm so fuckin' sorry._

_But, we're gettin' closer t' catchin' the fuckers who kept ya captive for a year. Jus' thought ya'd like to know. Phantom Pharmaceuticals, a chemist company who also seems to have a habit of human trafficking and experimentation. After 3 weeks undercover, I broke into the lab, which is no easy feat, stole a cannister o' some o' the purple wiry shit they always guard so careful, an' left. But fuck, these guys are creepy. The shit I've seen in the past couple weeks is insane, I'm surprised I don' have nightmares._

_But my question is, how did they know ya weren't dead, even though Valentine was so confident ya were? He shot ya in the fucking head, how more sure can-_

_.....holy shit. Holy fucking shit, I have to call Merlin right now, sorry Harry I'll call ya again later yeah? Bye, love you._

\----~----

"Are yeh certain?"

Merlin is deadly serious, eyes boring into him but then again so is Eggsy.

"'S the only explanation tha' makes real sense, Merlin. Along wif what was in that cannister I stole".

Merlin is quiet for a moment, taking a deep breath and exhaling tiredly. "It does make sense. A lot of it. Bu' this is bigger than we thought. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it myself".

"Ya not the only one, Merlin," Eggsy smiels ruefully. "Magic electrode thingys that ya can put on massive injuries t' regenerate the dead organ, not ya usual cup o' tea".

" It explains the loss of memories too," Merlin murmurs, seizing his clipboard and summoning a copy of Harry's most recent MRI. "See here? Harry's brain looks pretty much headed, because of that implant, wherever it is. It's effectively replacing the tissue tha' the bullet destroyed, but it's new matter, so the memories et cetera would not've been preserved".

"But 'ow does tha' explain 'Arry's '2 sides'?" Eggsy furrowed his brow, as Merlin hmmed, leaning against the edge of his desk.

"I'll keep looking into it," the ops coordinator decides finally, meeting the younger agent's gaze again. "Yeh just focus on stayin' undercover at tha' lab. Get as much intel as possible, because whatever we don' know can mean danger for Harry".

\----~----

Eggsy's in the US again when Harry's time between personalities starts getting longer. Morgana texts him to tell him that Harry stayed 'here' for 5 minutes instead of 2, and his speech was clearer, less stuttering. An audio clip is attatched, which Eggsy opens apprehensively, breath coming a little more shakily than he'll admit.

" _I.know...m'not always...h-here"._

 _"What do you mean, not always here, Harry?"_ Morgause's voice.

_"In my...head. B-but I....can't help...it"._

_"_ S'not your fault, 'Arry," Eggsy whispers tearfully to himself, alone in his hotel room, the hoarse sound of Harry's voice echoing in his mind. "S'not ya fault".

_It's mine._

His phone screen cracks when it hits the wall, but Eggsy's too busy crying to care.

When he's back in HQ, two days later, with a good deal more intel, Nimue, or the Scarlet woman, has an extensive meeting with Merlin, from which the handler emerges exhausted, hours later, to tell a nervous Eggsy that when Harry recovers- yes, it's a _when_ \- they're considering him for the Arthur position.

So Eggsy goes home to Harry's for the first time in a while, even though it feels a bit weird cause the man's alive, and has a real strong drink of what tastes like rocket fuel from some ancient decanter in Harry's cabinet.

And with Rob and Roxy's coaxing, the next morning, a year and 3 months after the original V Day, Eggsy goes to see Harry.

\----~----

The sliding metal doors open without a hitch, but the hitch is in Eggsy's breathing when he sees Harry.

The man is in his hospital bed, reading- of course Harry's reading Wuthering Heights Eggsy tells himself bemusedly- glasses perched on his nose. The bloodied cotton patch on his left eye from Valentine's Day has been replaced by a black fabric eyepatch, the grimy suit with a fluffy red dressing giwn and pyjamas, and as always, Harry has his nose buried in the book. That is until Eggsy's footsteps make a noise on the infirmary tile, and the older man looks sharply up, searching for the cause of the disturbance.

But when he sees Eggsy, he drops the book. He drops the fucking book, and oh the look on his face makes Eggsy want to bawl his eyes out even more- it's joy, pure joy radiating across Harry Hart's features.

"Eggsy," he whispers with exaltation as the man in question reaches the side of his infirmary cot, smiling back at him.

"Hey, 'Arry". God, he's been dreaming of this for so long, why didn't he visit sooner?

Before he knows what's even going on, Eggsy's dragged down into a tight embrace as Harry, a single tear streaking down his face murmurs audibly. "M'dear... boy. Dear boy."

"Shit, 'Arry". Eggsy's trying so hard to be strong, but it's been so long since he's seen Harry, but now he's back, he remembers him, and he's holding him tight, he knows there's so much to go over but if Harry will just hold him-

"Sit, sit," Harry gestures to the chair next to his bedside, and Eggsy takes it automatically, leaning his elbows on his knees still grinning slightly.

"You rockin' the pirate look now, eh Harry?" Eggsy jests, earning himself a raised eyebrow and an unimpressed look, but the corners of Harry's mouth are twitching.

"No, Egg-sy".

What he wouldn't have given for this a few months ago, what he wouldn't still give to see that raised eyebrow for himself, that mixture of disapproval and amusement in the form of a smile, hear the endearing exasperation in the all-too-familiar voice. It's so so good, almost too good to be true. He's kicking himself for not visiting sooner.

And with that thought, the guilt returns and his cheery demeanor dims.

"M'so sorry I didn' visit earlier, 'Arry, I've been a righ' coward-"

"Non-sense". The word is stilted, but the tone behind it is just as Eggsy remembers, because it's _Harry_ , living and breathing. A hand with only a slight tremble reaches out and actually takes his, the warmth from Harry's skin seeping into Eggsy's as a thumb twitches across his knuckle.

"Egg-sy". The younger man looks up from their intertwined hands, as with barely a stutter, Harry says his name so much more warmly that he deserves, eyes filled with some good emotion that he never believed he be on the receiving end of.

"Yeah?"

"T'was no-t your fault. I-t's not your fau-lt," Harry manages, slowly but steadily, eyes never leaving Eggsy's. _Oh._

"But it _is ,_ 'Arry, if I hadn't fucked up that last test, ya wouldn't have gone t' Kentucky, ya wouldn't've gotten shot, Phantom wouldn't've got ya, and ya wouldn't be like this," Eggsy says beseechingly, pain-filled gaze still directed at Harry.

"No". Harry doesn't stutter this time as his grip on Eggsy's hands tightens. "I w-will not let you t-t-torture yours-self with...b-blame. It-t was... n-no one-s guess as to what m-might happen in that ch-chur-ch.

"I had no con-c-control," the older man continues quietly, expression downcast as his tone darkens. "And it sssss-cared the... living f-f-fuck out-t of me. I ssss-truggle to ev-v-ven blame myself, l-let al-lone an-nyone else. No one kn-knew what V-Valentine was p-planning....n-not Merlin, n-not I, and n-not you.

"Sssss-o n-no, Eggsy. I do not b-blame y-you," Harry says finally, brushing a thumb across the younger man's knuckles, a small, rueful smile on his lips.

"You gonna blame Valentine then?" Eggsy asks, but his tone is light and teasing. "I know tha' ya were probably hopin' t' beat the shit outta him once ya recovered, but I beat ya to it, sorry".

"At-t lea-sssst someone did-d it," Harry concedes good naturedly, before that warm look is back in his eyes as he once again meets Eggsy's.

"M-Merlin told m-me what you and Roxanne acc-ccomp-l-lished whilllle I was ind-ind-indisposed".

"M-my d-dear b-boy," Harry beams, and it's almost too much for Eggsy to handle. "I am sssso, ssso v-very proud of you. Your b-bravery and r -r- resilience was that of a true K-K-Kingsman".

Murmuring a bashful thanks, Harry's praise washing over him and surrounding him like a warm blanket, it's all Eggsy can do to not burst into happy fucking tears because Harry's back, he's back, and he's not angry. After all Eggsy had done, the real Harry is still there, beneath the stutter and trembly movements. Just as Eggsy remembered him, the man he was so fucking gone for, back from the dead.

"I swear to you, 'Arry," Eggsy grows deadly serious as his throat chokes up, leaning forward in his chair towards Harry, tears stinging his eyes. "I swear to ya, on me life, tha' I will find who did this to ya. _I swear-"_ His voice cracks for a moment, and he feels a gentle pressure as Harry leans his forehead against his, before blinking wildly, jaw clenched, Eggsy adds hoarsely, "Tha' when I find 'em, they'll wish they'd never been fuckin' born".

They stay like this for some time, Eggsy doesn't know or care how long, foreheads together, hands linked, silent, before Harry takes a deep breath, pulling away slightly and murmurs quietly. "I also wished to speak t-to you of s-some-thing else".

Eggsy nods his head in assent, waiting with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity for Harry to continue, for he would, slowly but surely.

"Dear boy," Harry's grip on Eggsy's hand tightens again, and he can feel his own heart start to pick up pace in his chest. "Now is not-t the time nor place I had imagined I would to t-t-tell you, but alas, I fear I'll never...get the ch-chance, if fate has its way". Another wry smile twitches upon the lips Eggsy has wanted to kiss for so long, before Harry continues in earnest.

"What I said to y-you that last time we saw one another, before I left for ....K-Kentucky-"

"S'alright, Harry, we all say shit we don' mean-"

"A g-gentleman doesn't interrupt, Eggsy," Harry tuts, waiting until Eggsy is silent again, glancing down at their linked hands.

"Thank you," the older man continues. "As I was s-s-saying...I said to you, if I recall correctly, that everything I had d-done for you was to repay the debt to your father, wh-when he saved my life.

"And I m-m-must confess, Eggsy, with time to think about my response, that repaying your f-father played a rather in-sss-significant role in d-dictating my actions... towards you". Eggsy's pulse is racing again, and the combination of anticipation and nervousness is making the blood roar in his ears. His hands aren't trembling, well not yet anyway, but he's hoping they won't get sweaty as his gut clenches, waiting in suspense for Harry to resume speaking. No way, this isn't what he thinks it is, it can't be, don't be stupid Eggsy-

"The... truth is...," Harry pauses and Eggsy just about dies right then and there from frustration and suspense. "Eggsy, I'm a complete m-m-mess right now, I can't even form a sentence p-p-properly....but I can finally sssss-say what I've been thinking, now that we are n-no longer mentor and recruit, b-but agent to agent….man to man. Y-y-you are so dear to me, and-" the older man makes a frustrated noise, but Eggsy can't even tear his eyes away from Harry's beautiful, big brown ones.

"What I'm t-t-trying, and f-f-failing to ssss-say is-" _Oh my fucking god_ if he has to wait a second longer he's going to explode. He has to hear it, he has to, what he thought he'd never hear, not in his wildest dreams. Never, because why would Harry look at him twice? But maybe he has maybe that's what all of this is about, what Eggsy thought was his own mind playing tricks but it was actually real, Harry's generosity and 'my dear boy'- no Eggsy don't be a fucking wanker, as if- _but what if_

"Eggsy Unwin". His thoughts are silent now, all he can focus on is Harry's voice, even as his throat closes up and tears fill his eyes because Harry is looking at him, just looking at him, with this _look._ Like he's found the universe, the stars, planets, galaxies, the meaning of fucking life right here in Eggsy's eyes. A look that Eggsy just knows in his heart, is how his own face looks when he catches sight of Harry. This is actually, finally, happening.

_Oh_

_My_

_God_

"I'm in l-"

Harry's tongue catches on the letter, and  he stumbles, straining, eyes pleading with Eggsy, a silent, desperate apology, before the unthinkable happens.

In the middle of telling a boy he's in love with him, Harry Hart switches. And all of a sudden, the emotion in those chestnut eyes, so filled with fucking emotion, fades, replaced by blankness, alertness. The bright, hopeful facial expression falls before Eggsy's eyes, and a cool, calm mask takes it's place.

"Who are you? And why are we....holding hands?"

No. No. Nonononononono-NO. Eggsy can't even process the words coming out of this other Harry's mouth because _Harry_ is gone. Gone, and replaced by a stranger with his face, who had no memory of the chav he bailed from Holborn police station. Who had no idea of the bond he and this strange young man, clutching his hand tightly, share. Who remembered nothing. Who had forgotten Eggsy.

_Are you fucking kidding me._

An apology sounds from his mouth before Eggsy flees the room, the tears streaking down his face feeling like rivulets of blood from his broken heart as he tries to process the emotional nuclear bomb that's just gone off inside him. Morgana's there, calling his name, but Eggsy's numb, numb to everything, as the physician strides into the infirmary.

"Put me on the first plane to Kentucky," he chokes out to Merlin in the hallway, scrubbing the tears away from his eyes the handler staring incredulously at him. "This ends fuckin' now".

Phantom Pharmaceuticals aren't going to know what hit them. Because Eggsy is coming for them, coming real hard, and he will finish them, all of those fucked up fucking motherfuckers. He'll kill them, every last one, for doing this to Harry. For ruining this.

He'll kill them all, or die fucking trying.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thank you for sticking around for another chapter! It's shitty, I know, but I really want to release it so please forgive if my writing is atrocious, I feel like my standard has dropped since Chapter 1 :L As always, feel free to leave a comment and/or feedback!


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers, long time no see! Well it feels that way to me anyway, it's been over a month since I updated, and for that I'm really sorry. I've had a lot of things going on in my personal life lately that I needed to see to first, and for that reason it's taken me a phenomenally long time to write this chapter. Because at times, my writing is really not up to scratch, and I'm not about to churn out a sub-par chapter for the sake of it. 
> 
> So I do hope you all can forgive me (for both not updating AND for everything I'm putting poor Eggsy and Harry through, after this chapter you may just want me dead), and please enjoy! 
> 
> PS: I made a cover for this story, it's in the Chapter Notes at the end :) Hope you like it!

_**15th May, 2016, Richmond, Madison County, Kentucky. 0917 hrs.** _

It's his birthday, and Eggsy's crouched behind a lab desk, furiously reloading his assault rifle, whilst bullets spray the wall in front of him. Doing a 180 and pointing the nose of the rifle over the edge of the desk, a few quick, precise shots send the mercs firing on him to the floor, unmoving.

The siege is going as planned, which is a good sign, Eggsy thinks as he exits the now empty lab, wiping a dribble of blood from his mouth on his sleeve. Well, really, it's an orchestrated fuck-shit-up fest, so as long as shit is being fucked up, namely the security defenses and the armed mercs that your average pharmaceutical company definitely hires to protect their completely legal experiments.

Phantom were fairly unprepared for the ambush- well as unprepared as a business can be for multiple heavily armed SUV's and two Apache helicopters to come roaring down their driveway, smack bang in the middle of (the conveniently named) Richmond's agricultural district. That being said, a massive fucking warehouse in the middle of acres of green fields already stuck out like a sore thumb, so what's a bit of extra enemy firepower?

Now, 17 minutes in, Eggsy, with the help of Roxy, Rob, agents Bors and Lamorak as well as a sizeable portion of Merlin's handling squad had so far broken through the front-facing warehouse wall with a rocket- yes, a fucking rocket, because innocent looking warehouses aren't always so- set the 5 agents loose inside the warehouse, and proceeded to well and truly do their jobs. The sounds of gunfire, shouts and whirring helicopter blades provide a fitting soundtrack, because to be quite honest, Eggsy is feeling rather fucking murderous.

How had Harry worded it in The Black Prince when he floored Rottweiler and the rest of Dean's boyband? Ah yes, 'needed to let off a bit of steam'. Well Eggsy's got a fucking pressure cooker's worth to let off, thanks. It's like his limbs and reflexes have worked of their own accord, muscle memory making him shoot, reload, break bones, spill blood as Kingsman stormed room after room with the handler's direction, level after level of the place where Harry had been, for fucking _months-_

Eggsy’s feeling nothing at all, no pain, but also everything as he bypasses a room with what looks like a dentist's chair, mercifully empty, debris strewn everywhere. Well it would be a dentist's chair if there weren't straps to hold a body down.

Had Harry been given the freedom to walk around, in his time here? How long had passed since he'd seen sunlight? A month? Three? Where did they keep him? The warehouse had multiple underground floors, and so far Kingsman had only infiltrated the first one- how far below had they kept Harry, Eggsy wondered, a fresh pang of anger stinging his gut.

This is killing him, literally killing him. Because every moment he thinks about Harry in the field is a distraction, a distraction that could be deadly, because if Eggsy's too caught up thinking about the man who he was pretty fucking certain had been just about to confess his love for him, who'd been through what looked like hell and back in the past year just like he himself had, how can he focus on the here and now? How can he focus when everywhere he looks inside this stinking, corrugated iron and glass shithole is a reminder of how much Harry had been through? Of how much he had _lost?_

The voice of his handler for this op, Audrey, rings in his ear, and Eggsy's back, murderousness reinvigorated. " _One heat signature to your left, Gawain, incoming in 3, 2-"_

Another armed enemy rounds the corner and into the hallway, and Eggsy slams the butt of his gun into the man's face, making him fall senseless to the ground. He will show them no mercy. Fuck this shit, if Merlin's got a problem with it he can bloody take it up Eggsy later- the ops coordinator should've known he was looking to roll a few heads anyway after what happened in the infirmary. The man wasn't stupid.

Because, as it turns out, the cannister Eggsy had stolen from this madhouse whilst undercover, G.H.O.S.T, ( Growth Housing Omnipotent Stem-cell Technology) was some priceless new invention. A whole step up from the SIM card thing of V Day. This shit, these handfuls of tiny little purple buttons- which Eggsy had initially thought were M'n'M’s, but that’s’ beside the point- placed in a certain positions on a person couldn't just heal a deadly wound. They could regrow missing tissue, muscle, even bone in hours. Something like G.H.O.S.T was revolutionary. And really, really fucking dangerous.

And how does Eggsy know all of this?

-Kick in another doorway, bang bang, two more guards dead, Audrey in his ear telling him that Roxy's waiting for him down this next flight of stairs to take the final underground level-

Because it's what they did to Harry.

These motherfuckers took Harry, and somehow, using those little purple M'n'M things, _regrew_ the part of his brain destroyed by Valentine's bullet. This G.H.O.S.T stuff was the shit they had put in Harry's brain, experimented on him, with no fucking clue what it would do to him. The shit that could revive a dead man straight back off the ground and back to the mortal world. Because yes, Harry had been dead. He'd died in front of South Glade Mission Church, but somehow, using G.H.O.S.T, Phantom had brought him back.

"Ready?" Roxy's there, toting her AK-47 and raising her voice above the sound of death and arse - kicking strands of hair breaking free from her signature ponytail, as a bead of sweat tracks down her forehead. She's bloodied, panting, her suit is stained with fuck knows what chemicals, but her eyes still hold the look of a killer, a spark of black humour in their depths.

Eggsy raises an eyebrow, because from the sheen of sweat he can feel coating his body, and the way his hair is flopping limply over his forehead, a shadow of it's former neatly combed self, he likely looks just the same. _Good._ " 'Course".

The G.H.O.S.T program, as it was called, was the only logical explanation as to what had happened to Harry. No confirmation, but they were 99% sure. Merlin was going to test Harry once all this shit was done and dusted, when they'd nicked all the stuff they hadn't destroyed for further testing. Not that there'd be a lot left, what with broken test tubes and shit everywhere. Maybe they could nick a scientist too, make them fix up what was wrong with Harry for good. Maybe Eggsy could get Harry back, all of him, for good this time.

Roxy kicks in the door, and they both storm the dimly lit room, fully alert for any sign of movement, guns raised. It's rows and rows of... _cages,_ Eggsy realises with a resurge of disgust bubbling in his gut. There's _people in these cages,_ heads lolling against walls, gazes vacant even as he meet their eyes. _Harry wasn't the only one they experimented on_ . Men and women alike, snatched from who knows where, all whole, but with bloodstained bandages on various limb. Almost all are dirty, practically naked, lying in their own filth- _This is where they kept Harry oh fuck-_

 _"_ Eggsy!" Roxy's calling his name urgently, placing a hurried hand on his arm as she meets his livid gaze.

"We'll come back for them, I swear it," she placates him, moving her hand to her ear as she pages Merlin.

"Merlin, are you seeing this? We've got 7 civilian hostages, all in bad shape-"

He seems to be fading in and out of coherence, so many emotions numbing him, maybe this is all catching up to him. He can't even remember how many lives he's taken today, so many bodies falling with their blood on his hands.... The mold-stained ground seems to blur and sharpen beneath his feet-

_No. Focus. I swear to fucking god, Eggsy. Get a grip._

Shaking his head violently, Eggsy rips himself back to focus a split second before the grimy roller door they were headed towards at the end of the hall slowly slides upwards. He and Roxy immediately train their weapons on the white-clad figure that steps forward, ready to shoot at a moment's notice.

It's a man in a dubiously-stained white chemist’s coat, hands raised in the air, but with a far too relaxed grin on his face. There's footsteps behind them, and in his peripheral vision Eggsy makes out Rob and the two other Kingsman agents with a pang of relief.

"No need for violence, gentlemen, lady," the man drawls, beady eyes flicking from face to face. Something about this guy makes Eggsy's skin crawl- then he makes the connection. Oh shit. This is Michael Yoko, head of Phantom Pharmaceuticals- the man who had authorised all of this illegal shit. He recognises the face from his work undercover here, weeks of being Gary the cleaner and watching this smug prick do some seriously fucked up shit.

_You motherfucking twat._

"I beg to differ," Bors shoots back, glaring venomously at the lone figure no more than 15 feet away. "You're unarmed, all your paid guns are dead or dying, and you're surrounded. Our choppers will pick you off if you even try to run back out that door".

"We suggest that you formally surrender yourself," Rob continues where the other agent left off, tone calm, but with malice glittering in his dark eyes. "No need for a struggle, considering you're well and truly outnumbered".

Yoko, the smug bastard that he is, just throws his head back and laughs, making all the agents stiffen, hands twitching on the triggers of their weapons. Eggsy really doesn't see what's so fucking funny, really- It's taking everything he has in him not to give the fucker a nice bullet - shaped hole between the eyes right now. But Kingsman needs him for interrogation purposes, to weed out whatever remained of Phantom after this. But after that, who knows- maybe Merlin, with a little convincing, will let Eggsy have his fun with this living scum of the earth.

"Outnumbered?" Yoko sneers, lip curling in disgust. "You appear to have forgotten my friends-" he gestures to the cages on either side of him, the figures in each still slumped awkwardly, cowering "-Kingsman". He spits the last word as though the taste is poisonous.

Taking a closer look at Yoko's outstretched hands, Eggsy's eyes narrow. His hands seem to shimmer in the poor light, like they're covered in clear latex- is he wearing some kind of gloves?

But all that’s forgotten when Yoko flicks his hand again, and with a metal crunch, all the waifs in the cages leap towards the Kingsmen, hands scrabbling, trying their hardest with malnourished limbs to break through the inch-thick bars. Rob, Roxy and the rest all jump back, huddling closer together as they watch with horror. These people, they seem to glow, or parts of them do, a man with an arm glowing transparent purple lunges for Roxy, whilst a girl no older that 15 hisses and spits at Eggsy, her entire abdomen glowing the same sickly, grotesque colour- shit, are these the parts that the G.H.O.S.T technology regrew?!

"And in case you were wondering," Yoko continues over the sound of flesh hitting metal and growling. "All who have received treatment during the G.H.O.S.T program respond to my hand, matter _where they are"._

Eggsy feels even sicker the blood draining out of his face as he and the other agents comprehend Yoko's words. Harry, holy shit, Harry- he has to warn Merlin-

There's a buzz in his ear from Audrey as Rob says something scathing to the Phantom chief. "Audrey?" He tries desperately, "I need ya t' warn Merlin, get Harry int' the hospital wing alone an' leave him there, Phantom can control him, shit, the G.H.O.S.T shit didn’t just heal ‘is head, it’s still IN ‘is head,  'e's a fuckin' Trojan horse-"

" _Eggsy its too late, I just got a transmission from Merlin saying we're under attack, Galahad's gone rogue, he wants you and Roxy back at HQ to help stop him_ -"

"Fuck". Eggsy meets Roxy's eyes, breathing hard, and nods at her, before exchanging glances with the Bors and Lamorak, whilst Rob keeps Yoko busy talking.

"Handlers are comin’ in with backup, HQ's under attack, Lancelot an’ I hafta go". And with that he's pulling Roxy along by the arm, dodging the swiping hands of the caged, howling figures, and racing back through the catastrophic ruin that was the Phantom labs. Audrey's in his ear again, giving him the coordinates of where she's picking them up in one of the Apache helicopters, but right now all Eggsy cares about is getting to Harry, to make sure he's safe, safe from _himself_ because holy fuck if he loses Harry again-

****

Eggsy's pretty certain that Audrey is well and truly smashing the world speed record, because it doesn't feel like any more than 20 minutes have passed before they're out of the US airspace and thundering back towards England. The mood is tense, neither Roxy or Audrey speak, and Eggsy can't seem to stop pacing, he's so on edge. Not even texts from his Mum asking if he'll be home in time for a birthday dinner, or Daisy singing " 'Appy Birfdae to Eggy" can distract him from the fact that he's a hair's breadth away from losing Harry fucking Hart all over again. So he texts his Mum back saying yes he'll be home soon with trembling fingers, and paces feverishly back and forth in the Apache for the remaining 45 minutes it takes to get back to HQ.

Once the mansion comes into view amongst the vast greenery of the countryside, Eggsy steels himself for the worst. There's been radio silence for the entire trip back, not a peep from Merlin, and in the spy world, silence is never a good sign. But Audrey lands the chopper on the grass in front HQ anyway, even though Merlin will murder her for ruining his precious lawns, but right now the ops coordinator probably has more pressing problems. And as soon as the wheels touch the ground, Eggsy's vaulting out of the side door of the gigantic helicopter and sprinting towards the front doors in the afternoon light, because fuck, flying from America to England in an hour and  ten minutes is quick, but that means that Merlin and the rest of UK Kingsman have had to fend off a rogue Harry for that long, and-

HQ's deserted, silent and still, and if Eggsy isn't freaking out already this is just multiplying it. The horrifying thought flashes through his mind, ice in his heart- what if Harry's killed them all, corpses slumped, stiff and blood-soaked -

There's movement in the hallway to his right and Eggsy immediately grabs the approaching figure and slams them against the wallpaper by the throat, realising a second too late it's not Harry, but Merlin, eyes bulging at him in indignation.

"Sorry," Eggsy drops his arm and mutters sheepishly, as Merlin unleashes a tirade of hushed Gaelic swears.

"It's always bloody shoot first, ask questions later with yeh lot, for f-"

Merlin pauses as both men acknowledge Roxy's presence in the hallway, and she shoots Eggsy a reproachful look. "Running off like that wasn't wise, Eggsy, we've no idea-"

"Spare me the lecture, both of ya," Eggsy addresses the other two carelessly. "You can nag me all ya want after this is over. Now tell us what the fuck is goin' on, Merlin".

"Activation of Nightcap Protocol," the handler explains, still massaging his reddened throat. "All knights an’ handlers in HQ are bunkered down in the lower levels, sealed off". Before I got the chance t' sound the alarm, he half-killed Geraint and was about to start on Percival."

"So Harry's still loose here in HQ?" Roxy questions as Eggsy swallows hard, processing the intel.

"Aye," Merlin responds grimly, the rims of his glasses glinting. "He was set off in one of the lounges, Percival was there and tried t' dart him but it didn't seem to work- this G.H.O.S.T stuff seems to override the tranquiliser".

"But the tranquiliser is potent enough to knock out anything from a mouse to  a fully-grown elephant,” Roxy exclaims, frowning, just as Eggsy starts,  So how're we supposed t' calm 'im-" before his face turns ashen as he notes the gun in Merlin's free hand. Oh _fuck off, fuck right off._

 _"No_ ," He's shaking his head wildly before either Roxy or Merlin can respond, backing away in horror. "No, you can't be fucking serious Merlin, there has to be another way!"

He can't let them do it, no, Harry wouldn't want to die like this, having to be put down like an animal by his best friend- _Never._ They wouldn't lay a hand on Harry, not while Eggsy was still breathing. _It's Eggsy's birthday, and his friends want to kill the man he loves._

"Eggsy we're out of options," Merlin says defeatedly, strain evident on his face even as Eggsy's own turns to disbelief and disgust. "We can’t corral him into the holding cells, tranquilisers won't work-"

"Then lure him into the fucking Arthur panic room, do _something!"_ Eggsy spits, before a clatter further down the hallway, in the drawing room, makes them all quiet. Meeting eyes with both Merlin and Roxy, seeing the older man start in the direction of the door, still toting the gun, he frantically gives chase.

"Merlin, no, don't do this, he's your best friend-"

By some miracle Eggsy manages to make it to the closed drawing room door before Merlin does, grip on the door handle iron as he turns and braces himself in the doorway, Merlin coming to a stop inches from his face.

"Let me try to talk him down". By some miracle, Eggsy's voice is even as he stares into the handler's eyes unflinchingly. "Try and get him to see sense. _Please,_ Merlin".

There’s a long moment before Merlin breaks eye contact first, expression torn, even as Roxy steps closer behind him, laying a hand on his sweater-clad shoulder.

"But if ya still want t' get t' 'im," Eggsy's tone changes and Merlin meets his eyes again to find them cold as ice. "Ya gotta go through me first, bruv".

After a momentary pause that seems to last an agonising lifetime, Merlin steps backwards, exhaling, tension dissipating from his shoulders. "Yeh got one shot, Gawain," he says harshly, voice low, but his usually impenetrable gaze is raw with emotion. "One chance. Then I'm letting the rest of the knights out, and doing whatever it takes t’ stop him killing us all".

"Thank you". Eggsy puts all the relief and gratitude he has into those two words, making to enter the room before Merlin stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Take this, yeh might need it". But Eggsy pushes the Glock back into Merlin's hands.

"I ain't using no gun on 'Arry. I got this".

And taking a deep breath, Eggsy opens the door and strides into the drawing room, kicking the door shut behind him.

Almost immediately he notes the familiar tall figure he's searching for. _Harry._ Relief sings in his gut when he lays eyes upon the tall figure pacing at the back of the room like a caged wolf, and Eggsy takes a moment to compose himself before proceeding. He can do this.

" 'Arry". The man in question stops pacing at the sound of his name, back to Eggsy. He's wearing one of his favourite cardigans, one that Eggsy rather likes too, to be honest. A dark scarlet shade of red, paired with the usual white button-down shirt and dark trousers. Maybe once this is all sorted out, Eggsy and Harry can have another talk, go over everything good and proper this time- over dinner, if Harry feels up to it, that is. Merlin’ll probably want to have him checked over by the Sorceresses good and proper.

" 'Arry, it's Eggsy," he tries again after silence, footsteps sounding on the carpet, as step by step, he approaches Harry, walking around the armchairs by the fireplace. "I'm not here to 'urt you".

Still silence, as Harry stands unmoved near the corner of the room, head slightly downwards as Eggsy moves ever closer, until he's no more than a few feet from Harry's back. He could reach out and touch him if wanted, place a hand on his shoulder and feel the firm muscle beneath, the skin warm from the blood running through his veins. Heart rate is probably elevated too. But there’s no purple, another good sign. No purple means no G.H.O.S.T, and no G.H.O.S.T means that Harry isn’t a danger to others or himself. That he won’t hurt Eggsy.

"C'mon, 'Arry, turn around an' look me in the face, yeah? Then we can 'ave a talk-"

It's Eggsy's fine-tuned reflexes that tell him to duck when Harry suddenly lashes out, swinging his left arm out so wildly that it makes his entire body swivel to face Eggsy. It's only then, mouth hanging open with horror, Eggsy sees the purple glow engulfing the left side of Harry's head, over his eye patch, stretching down to scrape his cheekbone and climbing the length of his forehead to disappear in the midst of his hairline. And it's this momentary distraction that Harry uses to go in for the kill.

Again, Eggsy dodges the king hit headed for his jaw, catching Harry's wrist before it makes contact and deflecting the knee aiming for his ribs. He catching the next one, and the next one,  blocks and blocks blow after blow that rains down on him.

"I'm not gonna 'urt ya, 'Arry!" Eggsy exclaims as he continues to grapple, going for defensive rather than offensive with the man, who, using his height as an advantage, is trying to back Eggsy into a corner. "I know ya in there-"

But if Harry's in there, he's not listening as his fist whistles past Eggsy's ear.

They're evenly matched, and though there's chances when Eggsy could slip in an offensive punch, an arm twist, a kick to the knees, he let's those moments pass. He won't hurt Harry. And Harry knows it, he's in there somewhere. He has to be.

"Don' ya remember us, 'Arry?"

Eggsy blocks the hit to his abdomen rather sloppily, but it's worth it if he can distract Harry from trying to murder him.

"Everything we were, that we are, everything we coulda been?"

There's a flicker of something in those brown eyes, or maybe it's the sickening purple glow, but Eggsy likes to think Harry's listening. Or at least he did, before Harry, seemingly out of nowhere, grabs Eggsy and throws him against the fireplace, his head colliding with the metal grate.

Eggsy sees black spots and stars, and his ears are ringing, but when Harry hauls him back up by the front of his suit all he can do is desperately, painfully ask "Do ya remember the ovver day in the infirmary?"

He lands on the wooden floor a few metres away, with what feels like knives between his ribs, and when Harry hauls him to his feet again he spits a little blood on the other man's cardigan, the liquid blending in with the scarlet fabric.

"Do ya remember wha' ya were about t’ tell me, 'Arry?"

He doesn't try to block the blow that hits him in the face like a brick wall,  and shit he'll have a nice purple right eye tomorrow. But Eggsy doesn't give up. He has to get through to him. _Or Merlin will put him down._

He knows he should fight back when Harry's hand closes around his throat, but he won't, can't break eye contact as he chokes out. "'Arry. I love you. Don' do this".

It's Eggsy's 25th birthday, and as much as he searches, lungs screaming for air, there's no trace of Harry in this man's remaining eye as he puts Eggsy through the wall of the drawing room.

But even as his vision fades, eyelids dropping like the curtain on stage, he sees the purple blot in his vision fade. Eggsy sees Harry fall to the floor a split second before Merlin, Roxy and the other knights kick down the drawing room door, guns raised.

And his last thought, lodged in the wall amongst wood and broken bits of plaster, before the darkness takes him, is that on his 25th birthday, Eggsy Unwin is in love with Harry Hart. Even if that means Eggsy has to die at his hands.

\-----~-----

Eggsy wakes up in the infirmary, yet again.

The first thing his senses notice is the comforting, steady blipping of hospital machines, then his own steady breathing. He can smell the antiseptic scent typical of the infirmary, in its spotless all whiteness. There's a bad taste in his mouth, probably blood, nothing new, he acknowledges, and slowly, squinting, Eggsy Unwin eases his eyes open in the bright room.

"Excellent, he's awake," a familiar Scottish voice announces, and Eggsy realises he isn't alone in the infirmary. Oh no, he's got quite the crowd- Morgana, Morgause, Merlin, Rob and Roxy, all huddled around the hospital cot, peering owlishly at him.

"Eggsy? Can you hear me?" A hand clicks next to both his ears, then there's a piercing bright light shining into both his eyes, making him grimace in protest.

"Pupils dilating, that's a good sign," Morgause declares, as Morgana types something on a clipboard, a clipboard fairly identical to Merlin's. He’s never noticed that before, that the Sorceresses carry the same clipboard as Merlin. Who knew, right?

Roxy's holding his hand again, she seems to like doing that when he returns to consciousness, not that Eggsy's got a problem with it. She's a good mate, and he's given her a bit of a scare, so fair enough.

"'Lo," Eggsy croaks hoarsely, earning himself an array of smiles as a Kingsman-sigiled mug of water is pressed into his free hand by Morgause.

"Welcome back, Gawain," Rob says rather wryly, "Enjoy your little nightcap, did we?"

"Piss off," Eggsy rolls his eyes and swallows a mouthful of water, the cool liquid easing the scratchy burning in his throat. There's something missing here, he's not sure what yet, but something's being forgotten. Eh, oh well, he’ll remember it later. He drains the mug in a few more gulps.

"Well tha' nightcap, Kay, was well needed," Merlin reminds Rob slightly sternly, before rattling off a seemingly endless list of injuries.

"From Kentucky, a chipped tooth, several lacerations, cracked ribs, grade 1 sprained ankle, all of which may have gone undetected due to high levels of adrenaline, and then cracked ribs turned into broken ribs, a perforated spleen, a decent-sized concussion, one gloriously black eye and some-"

"Alrigh', alrigh', I ge' it," Eggsy interrupts, pulling his hand from Roxy's to dismiss Merlin. "I got banged up. Nuffin' new, in this line o' work. 'Ow long 'ave I been out for?"

"It's 8:30am, so just over 17 hours," Roxy explains, Morgana and Morgause continuing to bustle about, checking this machine and that. “Happy Birthday, by the way,” she grins, and Eggsy returns the smile as a chrous of ‘Happy Birthday’ ‘s sing into life from the others.

"Alrigh' you lot, clear out," Merlin addresses Roxy and Rob, as well as  giving the two Sorceresses, or really, Sorcerer and Sorceress a knowing look. Must be time for debriefing,  Eggsy figures, watching as the others leave the room one by one, leaving him and Merlin alone in the silence.

And that's when he remembers, like a sonic boom through his brain, starting small but like a shockwave through the very fibre of his being. Remembers why exactly he's in the infirmary, playing out like a scene from a movie in his head. Harry, head glowing like an angel of death, eyes blank and unknowing, fists flying as Eggsy desperately tried to talk him down, ribs on fire, a hit to the face- Harry's hands around his throat- the slow fade of unconsciousness as he sees Harry fall.

_Harry fell._

"Where's Harry?" Eggsy blurts suddenly, sitting bolt upright in his hospital bed with a wince of pain, body tense as he locks eyes with Merlin. He’s fully alert, entire body standing to attention as he waits agonisingly for the answer he’s dreading. Let him be wrong, please let him be wrong-

"Well," the ops coordinator begins, shifting his weight from one foot to another as he looks down at his clip board. "Tha's wha' I came to talk to you about".

There's an icy feeling settling in Eggsy's stomach, and his skin prickles uncomfortably, there's needles of panic stinging him until the weightlessness of sheer horror and panic hits him. The other knights, Merlin, kicking the door down guns in their hands. The guns. Harry.

"Merlin," his voice shakes but is so deathly calm at the same time, because Eggsy's trying to keep it together and it's not fucking working. "No, ya didn't, you can't've, ya wouldn't-"

They've killed him.

They shot Harry. He's gone. No. Gone. No. NO.

Merlin's saying something in a harsh voice about explaining and interruptions but it feels like liquid lava is flowing through every vein in Eggsy's body, limbs trembling, breathing harshly, no he can't he won’t believe that Merlin killed his closest friend, that a bullet ended Harry for the second time in a year, that for once, for all, Harry Hart is gone for good, and no amount of illegal G.H.O.S.T technology can bring him back-

The infirmary doors slide open and a man walks through but Eggsy can't pull his eyes away from Merlin's face because he _killed Harry._ He hears his own pulse in his ears, but all else is silent, and the world seems to tilt sideways because Harry’s gone, he can’t even cry yet, it’s hit him so hard-

But he didn't. He’s not gone. There's another nuclear explosion of realisation.

Because Harry Hart is standing at the foot of his hospital bed. Living breathing, broad shoulder almost brushing Merlin's as he says something, Eggsy doesn't care what. But then he does care. He cares a whole fucking lot what Merlin’s saying. Because it might just be worse than the thought of Harry’s heart ceasing to beat for the second time.

And fuck him, it is.

"Meet Agent Gawain, Arthur".

Because there's not a trace of recognition on his gently lined face when Harry meets Eggsy's eyes and politely smiles.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooooo  
> I do hope you're not planning to murder me :3  
> Please comment and let me know what you think so far, and feedback is always appreciated :)  
> Here ya goooo:  
> 


	6. VI

If you asked Eggsy what happened in the five minutes after Harry walked through the infirmary door, he'd probably squint, think hard for a bit, and declare he has no fucking idea what happened. Not a single recollection of the moment after Harry Hart looked right through him. Smiled politely, muscles working to pull lips into a slight U-shape, the way one greets an acquaintance or a stranger, with polite meaningless words. No memory of the way Harry Hart had forgotten everything they were, just like that, like he hadn't been about to tell Eggsy that he was in love with him just a few days prior. Or so Eggsy thought, he wasn't sure. Not that it mattered anyway, since Harry had forgotten he even existed. But that's beside the point.

Because the next thing Eggsy remembers, quite truthfully, is drinking what tasted like concentrated jet fuel out of a crystal glass in the infirmary, even though just past 8:30 in the morning seemed a bit early for drinking, and spitting it straight back out into the glass. After Harry left- he couldn't even remember that happening either- Merlin had sent for some truly ancient whiskey, and had poured both of them a glass, in hopes that it would stop Eggsy shaking quite so much.

He hasn't said a word. It's like he's forgotten the art of speech, because his tongue won't seem to move. Not that he wants it to, anyway. What's he supposed to say? "Ah yes, the love of my life's alive, but he's forgotten me, no big deal. I'll live."

Merlin's dropped all sense of propriety and is slumped in the empty chair by Eggsy's bedside, whiskey-filled glass of his own in one hand whilst the other massages the bridge of his nose. He didn't even seem to be able to muster the usual look of resigned exasperation at Eggsy's projectile whiskey spitting, hadn't even looked up. Amidst the white, numbing fog of his incoherent thoughts, Eggsy dimly acknowledges that Merlin's had a shocker of a 24 hours. He's been handling one of the most stressful missions in Kingsman history, only to have his best friend of over twenty years suddenly go rogue within Kingsman's own headquarters, and be faced with the possibility of having to take said best friend out, for his own and the rest of the spy organisation's safety. Not to mention getting Eggsy all patched up, and now, calm him down after he had the unpleasant duty of reacquainting mentor and protégée.

It's with that thought that Eggsy manages to utter just one word, voice crackly like one of those old radios in the spy movies. Except he's living the spy movie. Funny isn't it, because now it seemed to be 'that kind of movie, bruv'. Where spies come back from the dead, but damaged, broken and confused. Where they try to kill the people they know and maybe even love, and don't remember chavvy boys with shocking taste in fashion who are hopelessly gone for them.

"How?"

Merlin drains his glass, grimacing at the taste of the strong liquor, before setting his glass on the table to his right and leaning his elbows on his knees. "It was the G.H.O.S.T tech," the Scot explains, pausing for effect, or maybe to just let Eggsy take in one fact at a time, rather than all at once.

"I don't know if yeh saw, but Harry was on the ground by the time the other agents an' I kicked that goddamn door in, which was no mean feat, 2 good inches of hardwood an' all. But he was out, twitchin', 'cause Kay, Bors and Lamorak managed to incapacitate Yoko and his glove things. Morgana an' Morgause took 'Arry back t' the infirmary and straight int' ER. We didn't wanna risk movin' him to a proper hospital, not with all that purple shit in his head".

Eggsy's processing facts one by one, but there's horrific snapshots playing like a slideshow through his head, snapshots of blood and death and Harry, all as Merlin murmurs on.

"The collection of electrodes, shall we call them, when compared to a few we recovered from the warehouse raid- which since you missed the tail end of, was a success, by the way. Yoko has been extradited to-"

"Where is he?!" Numbness gives into to a raging inferno beneath his skin is Eggsy fixates his gaze on Merlin, eyes burning. He will kill that man when he finds him, and take great pleasure in do so.

Oh yes, Eggsy's killed people before, and it's haunted him. He sees their faces in his dreams. The guards in Valentine's alpine bunker, falling down like bowling pins as bullets ripped through them. Gazelle's eyes bulging as she gasped her final breaths, that horrible green stain inching up her face. Assorted criminals and politicians in the months following V Day leading up until now. But the death of Michael Yoko...Now that was one Eggsy actually looked forward to.

"-an undisclosed location to await trial by the United Nations," Merlin finished over Eggsy's interruption, the look in his eyes rebuking any attempts to argue. "That's the last of Valentine's cronies, gone. Now as I was sayin', the electrodes recovered from within Harry's skull, when compared to the ones retrieved from Kentucky where....abnormal, to say the least. Morgana, Morgause and I have reason to believe that Harry was the recipient of a faulty, or prototype batch of the G.H.O.S.T technology-"

And the words have died in Eggsy's mouth, dead and buried as Merlin recounts everything that transpired within the hours since Eggsy got thrown through a wall. And everything from before G Day - yes, they were calling it G Day now, may as well start an alphabet -, which had previously been unknown until the 14th of May 2016, Eggsy Unwin's 25th birthday.

"...prototype G.H.O.S.T technology, they were fumbling in the dark....a faulty set of G.H.O.S.T electrodes...botched connection... which is why Harry was so confused, affected his memories, his speech, movement...."

How an superpowered electromagnetic pulse controlled by the weird shiny gloves Yoko was wearing had travelled 3 times the speed of light halfway across the globe to flick the switch in Harry's brain.

How Harry had been rushed into surgery by Morgana and Morgause. How they'd had to painstakingly dig 32 tiny little purple dots from the edges of his brain, thankfully not harming the regrown matter.

All his questions, all his words. Everything Eggsy could possibly want to say has been wiped clean from the slate. So he just sits, staring at the whiskey glass in his twitching hands, and lets Merlin do the talking.

"But during the removal..." Merlin pauses, sighing deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose again. "During the removal of the electrodes, something unexpected happened".

G.H.O.S.T hadn't just malfunctioned the second it was put in Harry's head, leaving him confused and disorientated. It hadn't just sent him into unstoppable rampage that no tranquiliser could bring an end to. Oh no, Michael Yoko's sick pet project had one last defense mechanism against Morgana's steady hands, picking out dot after dot.

"G.H.O.S.T was beginning t' slowly erase Harry's memories. From the present backwards, day by day. Morgause an' I believe it's a mechanism t' prevent information about Phantom and G.H.O.S.T being leaked in the event tha' one of their guinea pigs is captured and interrogated-"

"'Ow far back're they gone?" Eggsy croaks, face blank as he waits for the answer he knows is coming, the one that will confirm the steady thrum of pain in his chest with every heartbeat.

"I'm sorry, Eggsy". He can't meet Merlin's sympathy-filled gaze. "But from what myself and the Sorceresses 'ave gathered by speakin' with Harry, the last thing he remembers is coming home from a deep-cover op in Mozambique".

Mozambique? Eggsy furrows his eyebrows. Harry's last op had been Kentucky, so how?-

"On January 3rd, 2012".

4 years. Almost 2 and a half before Harry met Eggsy.

"Physically, Harry's in perfect health, considering he was in rehab when this all happened anyway-"

Harry's forgotten him. He doesn't have the first clue who Eggsy is. Apart from possibly remembering the 7 year old boy he gave Lee's medal to for safekeeping. It was all gone. Every single glance, every hand on Eggsy's shoulder.

Everything that could have possibly meant Harry Hart had anything beyond platonic feelings towards his protégée, even an inkling, had been wiped from existence.

And Eggsy is now left with the ghosts of what feels like dreams. Transparent and monochrome, from another world. Another life.

Because what was the point of Eggsy remembering it all, if the one person who desperately needed to couldn't?

"Merlin, I need a li'l time alone," he hears himself murmur, cutting off the handler's spiel.

"Of course". The Scot gets to his feet, laying a hand on Eggsy's shoulder as the younger agent stares blankly forward. "If yeh have any questions, or just want t' talk....yeh know what t' do".

The infirmary door has barely slid shut behind Merlin's long strides before Eggsy begins to shake, ribs stinging in protest. But the physical pain is just an outlet for the emotional hurricane that's just ripped through his consciousness. Hot tears slide down his cheeks, and Eggsy doesn't even try to wipe them away. He's so _raw_ , and numb, and lost, he's not even sure how to feel. Angry? Devastated? Right pissed off?

Because to be quite honest, this whole bloody thing feels like it's shattered Eggsy right to the core. And he's just waiting for himself to crumble to pieces.

The infirmary doors slide open again, and for a horrible, gut-wrenching moment, Eggsy thinks it's Harry, come to see him again. And right now, he really can't deal with that, or anything much, really. It's far too soon.

He recognises Rob's curly head a split second later, along with Roxy's sleek ponytail, and sighs a little quietly, wiping away his tears and calming the little shudders wracking his frame. He's not really in the mood for visitors. But hopefully once they've all talked they'll leave him be, so he can try and deal with this clusterfuck.

"Hey," Rob greets him, coming to stand at the foot of Eggsy's bed, leaning his hands on the footboard. Roxy just smiles, a small, rueful but comforting one, that said 'we know you're hurting. We understand'.

But Eggsy's not quite sure they do understand, thanks.

"Merlin told you about Arth- I mean, Harry," Rob corrects himself, and realisation dawns upon Eggsy that Harry's Arthur now, has been for the 17 hours that Eggsy'd been out cold. Well, probably a bit less than that, after his surgery, and then Merlin's psych evaluation, and all the other shit he'd been put through. Had they even had the Sword in the Stone ceremony yet? Or had Eggsy missed that too, just another memory in Harry's head that he wasn't a part of?

"Yep," Eggsy mutters, picking at the coverlet on his cot.

"It's awful, it really is," Roxy adds after a moment. "We can't imagine what you're going through right now, it's been a very traumatic experience overall".

No shit Sherlock, Eggsy has to bite his tongue to stop the words coming out. Dimly, his conscience acknowledges that taking out his frustration, all his heartache and pain out on his friends isn't fair, that it's not their fault Eggsy manages to royally fuck his own life up. But really, right now, he isn't caring about fairness. And he couldn't give a flying fuck who he hurts. After all, it can't get much worse, right?

"Look, Eggsy, we just came see if you're alright-" Rob begins, but something inside Eggsy snaps.

"Obviously I'm not fuckin' alright, Rob. I'm stuck in a fuckin' hospital bed, put there by the love of my life, who doesn' 'ave the first clue who I am. I jus' fuckin' got 'im back, and now I've lost 'im all over again!"

There's a shocked silence as Eggsy looks back down at the coverlet, hands clenched into fists around the fabric. He should feel ashamed, or even embarrassed, but he feels nothing but numbness as Roxy quietly ushers Rob out of the room, murmuring something in Eggsy's direction about coming back later.

Well he does feel a bit bad, to be honest. But not as bad as being forgotten felt.

\-----~-----

The next day, he starts physio. Physio is the fucking worst.

Or maybe it's the fact that Eggsy's injured in the first place that's been added to the list of things that are pissing him off. His ribs hurt just existing, without movement, and when Phil, Kingsman's physiotherapy guy, tries to put Eggsy through his paces with some light exercises, he's just about ready to scream with frustration. They're a bad break, Merlin's informed him, and standing itself is excruciating, let alone walking.

And looking in the mirror feels like looking into his soul. His face is a puffy, bruised mess, thank to Harry, with a few cuts from Kentucky to spice up the decor. Luckily no lingering effects of the concussion, and his spleen is healing well, according to Morgana and Morgause. It's just his ribs giving him never ending shit.

His ribs, and his consciousness. He feels about as good as his face looks, and while the mess of his face slowly heals, Eggsy's heart sure isn't. He hates physio, but it's a physical outlet, stretches and exercises that make him groan and swear like a sailor, to exert his frustration. His resentment, the pure pain lancing through his chest at the very thought of Harry.

He's still staying in the infirmary, which is a pain in the arse, as the Sorceresses refuse to discharge him until his ribs improve drastically. Geraint's there, since Harry did quite the number on him too, but he's not much of a talker. Luckily, due to his confinement, Eggsy doesn't see much of Harry. He hasn't actually seen Harry since that day in the infirmary, to be honest, frequenting only the physio and the infirmary, in an effort to avoid bumping into him. Because quietly, in his conscience, Eggsy acknowledges that he doesn't actually really want to see Harry, as much as not being around him makes him pine miserably. It's still too raw. And the thought of Harry wandering around, doing his Kingsman duties, talking, laughing, breathing, without so much as a second thought for Eggsy is just too hurtful to comprehend.

He calls his Mum and Dais, cobbles together some fib about being overseas for a month or two to get some international tailoring experience, and promises to call again every few days. Which he does, and whilst his Mum is a bit suspicious at first, she eventually accepts it and asks him to send her pictures of a brightly coloured _salwar kameez_ he was definitely working very hard on. Merlin's grumbling over having to get poor Ector to make a _salwar kameez_ identical to Eggsy's description was amusing to say the least, and Eggsy only feels the tiniest bit guilty when his mum gushes over it, hurriedly changing the subject when she suggests he makes something for Daisy or herself.

He's made up with Rox and Rob too, thankfully. He'd tried to apologise a couple of days after, even though he didn't really feel like it, but of course they accepted, giving him tight smiles and a reassuring hand before rapidly changing the subject. They'd grown close, Eggsy notes one night as they sit in the infirmary with him, regaling him with tales about an op they'd just completed together, something about a well-known celebrity and a car chase around the Champs Élyseés. And whilst that stings a little, that feeling of exclusion, he acquiesces that he hasn't been the easiest person to get along with of late. And they brought JB around for him from Harry's place, he acknowledges gratefully, stroking the pug's soft fur as he snuggles further into Eggsy's lap, tail thumping against the bed. But he smiles and laughs at their stories anyway, all the while desperately wishing to fucking heal already, to go back into the field and get back to normal. If there even was a normal anymore.

So Eggsy throws himself into physio, painful ribs and all, and tries to heal.

When Eggsy can finally stand comfortably and unassisted, two whole weeks later, Merlin quietly pulls him aside and informs him that he'll be attending counselling twice a week again, because he needs to heal emotionally as well as physically. And, much to Merlin's surprise, Eggsy agrees.

"I need ta sort my head out, Merlin. I need t' deal with this all 'fore I can get back to it, eh?" He explains, and something like relief shines in the ops coordinator's eyes, before he tells Eggsy the details of his appointment time. And that Harry has been officially sworn in as Arthur, while Eggsy was in physio, and that they only reason they didn't invite him was because Roxy, Rob and Merlin had all agreed that Eggsy wasn't really in any fit state to be around Harry. So whilst Eggsy normally would've told them off for babying him, and it hurts that another one of Harry's memories has been made without him, he's secretly grateful he wasn't in attendance.

Eggsy goes back to his psychiatrist, who greets him with a kind smile, and it's as though he never stopped coming.

Physio, counselling, friends, family. 4 cogs in his coping mechanism. After 6 weeks, when his ribs have mostly knitted together and he can walk without pain, Morgana and Morgause reluctantly discharge him. And the first thing Eggsy does is go to the closest corner store and buy a pack of cigarettes. But the comforting smoke that fills his lungs, making him cough slightly and his ribs sting, just tastes like loneliness and Harry.

Because he's just turned 25, and Eggsy wonders what he did to make the universe hate him so much.

\-----~-----

_Hey 'Arry._

_S'been a real long while, eh? And a lotta shits happened, as ya know. Ya back, ya bastard. An' ya don' even fuckin' remember me._

_I can't even be mad at ya, fir it all. Ain't ya fault ya got sent off to Kentucky, an' Valentine shot ya. Ain't ya fault Phantom picked ya up, an' fucked wif ya head with th' G.H.O.S.T program. Ain't ya fault it ate the most recent years of ya life, and ain't ya fault ya almost put me in the ground, cause ya didn't have control of ya own body. That's second time that's happened, mate, must be pretty scary shit. 'Cept ya can't remember it, so ya safe from it all._

_I'm so sorry. S'my fault. All of it. Right from the start._

_So I guess I only got myself to blame for all this shit. Like my body's healin', real slow like, but no so much my head. Because being apart from ya kills, but so does being near ya. I heard ya voice down the hall from the infirmary sometimes, and I had ta cover my ears like I just couldn' deal wif it. Ya so close but so far from me, Haz.  I wanna see you so so bad, it's tearin' at me heart. But I can't see ya. Cause you don't remember me. Ya're the you I remember, funny, well-spoken, the perfect gent. But ya don't remember me, what we had. And that thought hurts more than not seeing ya. Cos I'll never have you._

_Now ya back fir good I guess I better move outta ya house. I'll see if Merlin can find a place for me nearby, or if I have to I'll move back in wif Mum and Dais fir a bit. I just gotta be able to sneak in and move all my shit outta ya drawers and pick up JB and stuff, while ya not home o' course. Can't have ya finding me in ya house, that'd be real creepy._

_Listen t' me, I'm such a bloody coward. I can leave voicemails on ya mailbox but I can't say a word t ya in person. And after all this shit I'm still in love with ya, even though I can't face ya. M'gonna have to soon though, now I'm discharged an' have ta get back in the field. My psych's gonna try help me wif it, but she don't know I love ya, so I doubt it's gonna help much._

_So here we are again. Just me an' you. I really bloody hope ya don't find this mailbox one day, I fink I'd actually die. Anyway, gotta go, gonna pop round t' Mum's for dinner now I'm out. See ya._

_Love ya._

_Please remember me._

\-----~-----  
There's something not quite right about Kingsman's newest agent.

Not Lancelot, no- the new Lancelot was remarkable for an agent of her age. By God, she'd be one for the record books at any rate. Harry had seen very few of her calibre in all his years at the spy. Not that he was comparing her to James though- the loss of James was a heavy boot print on his heart that he carried with him now. And the fact he couldn't even remember.....one of his closest friends, gone, and Harry had no memory of it. Sometimes he felt as though he was underwater, in a deep dark pool, and his lost memories were dancing on the sunlit surface. But as hard as he swam, he could never reach them, never break through the barrier of his consciousness.

But despite his shame and grief over his dear friend's death, Roxanne Morton was as good a replacement as Kingsman could have hoped for.

Ah yes, back to him. The other new one.Well not new, really, apparently he'd been there for how long was it? Eighteen months or so? Harry wouldn't know, he'd been out of it for far too long. It was rather disconcerting, having holes in one's memories.

But Harry is convinced that Gary Unwin, code name Gawain, did not like him, for some unapparent reason.

Really, as Arthur, he shouldn't give two whits about whether his knights liked him, he wouldn't be the first Arthur to have a reluctant or resentful knight. It was a purely professional relationship, between superior and inferiors. Not that Harry lorded it over his agents and handlers, oh no- it still made him rather uncomfortable at times that individuals he had worked with for decades now heeded to his authority, rather than advice or conversation from one colleague to another. And a purely professional relationship was a bald lie, for the rapport between all within the Kingsman establishment was one of the few comforts such a hazardous job held. His acquaintance, or in some cases, reacquaintance with his Knights had been going quite well, too. Lancelot was lovely, and the rambunctious Kay was someone Harry found to be quite funny. Then there was Gareth, then Lamorak, Bors, Percival...all the other assorted Knights he had known prior to his memory wipe.

But yes, the apparent dislike Gawain held for him bothered him deeply, for some unknown reason, and he just couldn't shake it. The first time he'd re-met the young man had been a month or so prior, when the lad had come to after Harry had put him through the drawing room wall. Terrible, really, he had apologised profusely, though he had no memory of it. And despite Harry's apology, the agent hadn't seemed to be listening, like he was off elsewhere, face slack. Was this dislike for Harry leftover resentment from that incident? Maybe Harry should apologise again, try to clear the air.

 _No_ , he wouldn't. The boy may be avoiding him for reasons unknown, but when he was ready, or forced by necessity, he would talk to Harry. At least, Harry hoped he would, from the way Lancelot and Kay spoke of him, he was a lovely lad. And apparently quite handsome, not that Harry knew- the last he'd seen him, the aforementioned pretty face was rather battered. But he did have stunning green eyes, he had noted quietly.

Apart from this unexplained animosity from Gawain, there were still quite a few things Harry had needed to be informed of, our brought up to speed with. Starting from Mozambique in 2012, where the last thing he recalled had been boarding the Kingsman jet after some truly uncivilised diplomatic efforts. Really, guerilla warriors were so difficult to reason with.

Four whole years of his life, erased as though he had never lived them. Four birthdays he had no memory of, not that he celebrated them with much pomp and circumstance. But it was rather offputting to wake up and be informed you were four years older than you had been last time you remembered being awake. And recent events that had been beyond his control, that he couldn't even recall....

Harry knew he had died.At least, that's what Merlin had told him. Dead at the hands of a Richmond Valentine, someone who Harry had never heard of, and brought back, like some polished ghost with a score to settle with the living. Some strange invention involving a handful of purple dots, that regrew the part of his brain that had been obliterated by Valentine's bullet. And his multiple losses of control, his periods of coherentness.....nothing. Not a sliver of recall.

Therapy had been helping, his psychiatrist was a lovely lady. She'd helped him enormously with coming to terms with his lost memories, and the weight of the Arthur role now balanced on his shoulders. Hearing Chester was not only dead, but corrupt,  had been another shock. But Harry couldn't say he hadn't expected something of the sort. The man had been rather insufferable, and a terrible snob.

His return to Kingsman routine had also been crucial in managing his inner turmoil, as well as getting his life back on track. Merlin had been having Harry physically train with a batch of recruits for one of the handler positions that had been recently vacated, after the girl was offered a place within the CIA's tech team. His skills were not diminished after so many years as a Kingsman, and luckily Phantom Pharmaceuticals tampering with his brain had left him with no lasting physical damage, though his eye had been unable to be saved (Merlin had promised to fix that, with a manic gleam in his eye that had been slightly worrying). It was only his fitness that was to be regained, and sure enough, after a month, Harry could feel his stamina and ability beginning to reach its former glory. He was not going to be an idle Arthur like Chester, thank you very much.

But there was one tiny blip in this new version of Harry that he hadn't shared, apart from the Gawain issue. One tiny mannerism that as hard as he tried, he could not shake from the recesses of his mind, despite after much contemplation that it didn't mean anything. And if it did he could not recall. But this one niggling thought had Harry constantly feeling as though it was something very, very important that he had forgotten, damn it.

But what was so special about 'eggs'?! It wasn't a craving for the food, no, nor an obsession with egg-shaped objects. It was just the word, a word Harry could not shake. And if he told anyone, they'd surely think he was going senile, and he wasn't having that. Or maybe it was just a word that sounded nice, like 'allegro' or 'eloquent'. It surely wasn't anything to be concerned about, despite the fact the word constantly bounced around in his thoughts, even floating into his dreams.

_Eggs._

He doesn't understand it, but Harry keeps turning it over in his mind all the same.

 


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's back, and life goes on...for some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the world's longest hiatus, here's chapter 7.

_Hi 'Arry._

 

_First day back at work properly was today, as ya know, an' it went ok I guess. As ok as fings can be now, I guess._

 

_So I got one more onceover from Phil, who was a total guv'nr an' told me I 'ave the all clear. Eggsy Unwin, Agent Gawain, officially cleared fir active duty. Was feeling total aces, Phil signed my clearance form, Merlin signed it too, an' then he told me I had t' get you t' sign it. Since ya Arthur now, ya my boss, gotta get ya signature before I can get back t' it._

 

_I feel a bit bad but I argued wif Merlin about it, cos he was actin' Arthur, he signed all the shit before ya were ok, why couldn't he sign this one? But 'e gave me the lecture on 'proper procedure' an' told me if I didn' get ya signature, or tried to forge it, he'd spoil the result of the Millwall match against Bristol last night that he knows I 'aven't watched yet. Right wanker, he is. Definitely shouldn'ta told him I follow 'em._

 

_I'll be honest- I really didn' wanna come an' get ya signature, Merlin's threats an' all. Cause I still can't deal wif this whole shitty situation. But I really, really wanna get back out there, so I guess I just did it, even though it weren't easy._

 

_That second before ya opened the door after I knocked on it was so nerve-wracking, felt like I was waiting for the guillotine to fall on my neck. But it was the first time I seen ya since ya saw me in the infirmary_ , _an' I've been missing ya like mad; even though this whole thing has sucked balls. So it was kind of a bittersweet moment, I guess, when ya opened the door and let me into ya office._

  
_I'm not gonna lie, the whole encounter was a pissup. Me head was all over the place- like there ya are, sittin' behind the Arthur desk, alive, whole. And ya look fit as fuck as usual, even though I know it took ya a while t' get ya mojo back, trainin' with them recruits got ya looking just like ya used to._

_M'sorry I was so awkward wi' ya, I jut couldn' get the words out proper. And when they did get out,they sounded all robotic an' weird an' all. Fink ya picked up on tha', ya were lookin' at me bit funny like. Broke my heart though, cos there was no familiarity in tha' look. I coulda been anyone passin' ya on the street and ya'd never know it. Cos ya got no idea of our history, only the basic shit in me file that don' even cover 'alf of what we were. What you are, to me._

_Ya signed the form though, even though I was being a right twat. Fink you was tryin' t' make small talk, like ya wanted t' talk t' me. Which was nice, bu' ya've nevva been good at small talk, 'Arry. I 'member ya tellin' me once that pullin' toenails were easier than chattin' shit for hours. Even though ya never gave any indication tha' ya didn't enjoy small talk, the gentleman ya're. Bu' small talk is more enjoyable when it's wif someone ya know, an' ya don' know me no more._

 

_So I'm finally off on an op tonight, rarin' t' go an' all. Gotta meetin' wif you an' the rest beforehand which I'm not lookin' forward to, but I'll grin an' bear it. Or try to. But I'm real keen to head off t' the Harz Mountains wif Rob, so tha' sweetens the deal a lil I spose._

 

_Alright, the Round Table's in five so I gotta go, but I might call when I'm back, eh?_

 

_Love ya._

 

_*******_

 

The Round Table meeting ran smoothly, with all agents present either physically or holographically. The usual drone of stats from Merlin, and occasional ventures from various agents when queried about one detail or another of their assignments. When Harry- Arthur- calls upon Eggsy, he manages to bite out an answer, and sit at the table with Harry mere metres away for an agonising hour and a half without breaking. It takes everything he has to keep himself together.

 

Then it's off to the Kingsman jet with Rob, the latter chattering happily away as the plane rockets into the clouds towards Germany. They're headed to the Harz Mountains, something about investigating the location of some seriously dangerous military weapons. Apparently some right-wing politician is pressing for liberties concerning such weapons of mass destruction, despite UN sanctions, and the Kingsman jet's metal detecting equipment saves Eggsy and Rob the trouble of going all Bear Grylls and trudging through millions of identical trees and mountains, minus the drinking your own piss. 

 

The weapons, whatever they are, are hidden in shipping containers of all things, painted green and hidden in a thick copse of trees, surrounded by a sizeable barbed wire fence, topped with cameras. Not a single heat signature in site, easy peasy. So handler Jerry disables the cameras, Rob and Eggsy rappel out of the jet, cut through the fence and manage to pick the locks of all four containers. Rob takes photos of the sleek missiles and crates of fuck-knows-what, while Eggsy gets to stand watch outside, listening to the twittering birds and complaining how all green makes him look peaky. But its so good to be in the fresh air, and be back in the field after far too long. 

 

So multiple photographs, one mended fence and a tip-off to the United Nations later, the jet returns to London. The lights glimmer like thousands of bright sequins on the smooth dark fabric of the city, and Eggsy wishes, a deep ache echoing in his chest, that he wasn't dreading coming back to HQ so much. That every interaction with the man he loved didn't feel like pulling toenails, that he could get his fucking head straight and just move on. 

 

But he can't. 

 

It's only 8pm UK time when they touch down, so Eggsy knows that Harry will almost certainly still be around, workaholic that he was. Even Merlin's constant badgering hadn't been able to keep Harry from his work until the early hours of the morning, Roxy had confided in Eggsy several days ago. Every tidbit of information she, Kay or Merlin supplied to him simultaneously wounded and healed Eggsy in the strangest of ways- as though hearing Harry was ok calmed him, yet hearing the other man was functioning fine without him only widened the raw abyss in his heart. 

 

So he clatters down the stairs with Rob and into the veritable silence of the Kingsman aircraft hangar, discussing the merits of house music over indie rock as they make for Merlin's office to debriefing.

 

"Nah bruv, ya can't tell me Coldplay an' Bastille make ya wanna dance like Hardwell or Pekin' Duk," Eggsy is arguing as they clatter up the stairs, round the corner and saunter into Merlin's office. Only to stop stock still, Rob bumping into him due to the abruptness of the action. _Harry_. 

 

"Ah, Gawain and Kay," the older man greets them airily. "I trust your op went without a hitch?"

 

"That it did," Rob counters happily, before flicking his eyes to Merlin, seated behind his desk. "And if there had been any hitches, I'm sure our beloved Merlin would've given us quite the earful".

 

"Earful? If two of the best spies in the world hadn't managed t' complete such a cakewalk o' an op, you'd be coppin' much more'n a earful," the Scot bites back peevishly, getting up to shake his clipboard menacingly in Rob's direction.

 

Harry shrugs nonchalantly at their banter, casually sliding a hand into his trouser pocket. His head turns in Eggsy's direction, and brown eyes meet blue, unwavering.

 

"You did well today, Gawain," Harry says as Eggsy hardly dares to breathe, frozen stock-still. Those eyes have paralysed him, that captivating shade of brown striking him utterly dumb. Eggsy's utterly powerless.

 

"Keep up the good work".

 

And with that the older man shoulders past with a polite 'excuse me', footsteps fading into quiet nothingness.

 

It's a scene that Eggsy plays over a thousand times in his brain in the following hours. Again and again and again, relentlessly, absentmindedly. Every tiny detail, psychoanalysed until breaking point. 

 

"Eggsy?"

 

Shaking his head like a dog, Eggsy resurfaces from his consciousness. Rob plonks down on the couch beside him, squinting in the bright glow given off by late night television. 

 

"Sorry, bruv, floated off," Eggsy responds, taking the beer that his friend proffers, chugging half of it but not quite tasting it. He's had a few tonight, but even alcohol can't seem to numb his mind enough tonight to stop thinking about Harry. 

 

Rob, however, is drinking himself blind. They both have tomorrow, or really, today, off, so getting off their faces in Eggsy's apartment to celebrate is quite justified, apparently. Even though Eggsy would much rather be asleep right now, Rob had insisted they have a boy's night in. 

 

"D'you think she'll ever like me?" Slurs Rob, jerking Eggsy out of his stupor again.

 

"Wha?"

 

"Roxy, y'knob".

 

"Oh". 

 

Rob's a great guy, Eggsy really thinks he is. The bruv's a bit of a casanova, who took advantage of the sophisticated Kingsman getup to entertain a variety of blueblood ladies. What with his charm, his dress, and his dark curls and darker eyes, Rob was a real A-grade catch, who could probably pull any girl he wanted.

 

Except one particular girl. Who Eggsy knew was utterly gone for the resident ops coordinator, but would never do anything about it. So like a good friend, he listens to Rob drunkenly mumble on and on about Roxy until the former falls asleep halfway through a sentence, empty bottle dropping with a dull thud onto the carpet. After chucking the offending bottle away, Eggsy opens the sliding door and wanders out onto the balcony. 

 

London is quietish now, around the 2am mark, cars sounding only occasionally in the streets around him. So in the cool night air, Eggsy lights a cigarette, and remembers how Harry is proud of him.

 

But it didn't feel like Harry who said it today. It sounded like the man who sounded like Harry and looked like Harry, who walked like Harry and had Harry's mannerisms like the way he fiddled with his signet ring at meetings, and his absurd yet sweet love of butterflies. 

  
But the Harry Eggsy knew, the Harry he was hopelessly in love with, was gone. Really gone, this time. Along with every single memory of the best year and a half of Eggsy's entire life.

So Eggsy takes one look at his cigarette, the burning tip a firefly like all the other city lights, and takes a big long drag.

******  
"Gawain."

Eggsy stops in his tracks from where he's just breezed past Merlin's office. He immediately backtracks, peeking his head back around the ops coordinator's door frame.

 

"Whassup?" He quips, sidling into the doorway. Eggsy's been filing some last-minute paperwork from an assignment in Zimbabwe three days ago- just the debrief, no biggie. 

 

The Scot has slouched his lanky frame in his chair, as always. A hand props his hairless head up as piercing eyes scrutinise Eggsy through his bespoke glasses. Eggsy wouldn't have put it past Merlin to add some extra gimmicks to his own glasses that the rest of the Kingsman team were none the wiser to. Maybe if the handler tapped his glasses in the right spot, they'd automatically place a Dominos order for him.

 

But amusing as the thought of Merlin's pizza order was, it's very low on the list of possible reasons why the man would call him in for a chat. The man looks almost awkward as he clears his throat.

 

"Arthur has been fully discharged from the Infirmary with a clean bill of health. Which means," The Scot pauses with a sigh. "Harry will be moving home."

 

Moving home? The puzzle pieces take a moment to click together, and Eggsy saves Merlin further painstaking gauche.

 

"Ya want me t' move out of Harry's". He tries his utmost to ignore the bowling ball of metal that's just dropped into his stomach, keeping his tone casual.

 

"Unfortunately, I'm going to have to ask you to, yes," Merlin adds almost ruefully, regarding Eggsy with quiet concern through his gleaming glasses.

 

"S'all good, I'll go get packing."

 

"Eggsy-"

 

"Don't stress 'bout it, guv." There's a plastic smile of reassurance slapped onto his face like a sticker as Eggsy backs towards the door. "I'll have me stuff out by tonight." 

 

He knew it would happen eventually, he tries to reassure himself. He'd known it would be on the cards soon enough. It was just a house, after all, and it wasn't even his.

 

But these little lies he tells himself fade away like steam in cold wind. That house meant a fuckload more than that to him. It was the last frontier, a safehaven to come home to when his consciousness screamed for the smell of a familiar sweater-

 

Time's up, bruv. So he's out by that night, as promised, and the house looks exactly as it did when he first saw it, what felt like dust-rimmed millenia ago. 

 

He sleeps fine in his apartment, but when he wakes, there's no comforting whiff of Harry covering him like a fuzzy blanket. 

 

The worst part about it really is the conversation he hears between the man himself and Merlin the next day, as he's heading to the gym. The Scot's asking Harry if he settled in alright, from what Eggsy can hear around the corner, and Harry's doing fine. Just fucking fine, as always. 

 

"Did you get a cleaner in for me, Merlin? Thanks for that," Harry says, and Merlin mutters something noncommittal. "Everything was spick and span, not a hint of dust. Apart from some dog hairs on my bed, which was rather odd- Mr Pickle has been dead for years."

 

It takes every whit of self-restraint Eggsy has in him not to dash around the corner and spill it all out at the top of his lungs. But instead it's the mongrammed Kingsman punching bag that is on the receiving end of his frustration, like always.

 

And just when things couldn't get more tense....

 

"Eggsy?"

 

Roxy's hand whizzes past his nose, and Eggsy jumps to attention, completely at loss of what his best friend had just been saying. 

 

"Huh?" He refocuses, taking his eyes off the chestnut head bobbing across the emerald lawns, accompanied by Gareth's darker one. 

 

"I was just telling you how I've come to the realisation I'm sexually attracted to door handles," Roxy says dryly, and when Eggsy raises both eyebrows, she snorts. "Oh good, you're actually paying attention now."

 

"As I was saying," she nudges her bishop across the chessboard to take out Eggsy's pawn. She's been teaching him the finer points of chess on and off for months now, and he's actually not too shit at it now. When he's paying attention, that is. "Arthur seems to have acquired a new shadow."

 

"You mean Gareth?" Eggsy asks, poking his knight forward with little interest as he peers out the window over the Kingsman grounds again.

 

"Indeed." Roxy claims his charcoal knight with her chalk pawn. "They've been spending a lot of time together..."

 

Now that was something Eggsy hadn't missed. Wherever Harry had been these past few weeks, Gareth had seemed to follow. It wasn't an odd sight to see the pair of them poring over a file together, or chuckling in the lounge over a thumbful of Scotch, which Eggsy was doing his very best not to see. Not when the sight of Gareth's shoulder bumping into Harry's sent shockwaves of yowling, acid green jealousy into his stomach. And when he had to clench his fists to try and distract himself from the tiny voice whispering to him that why couldn't Harry look at _him_  like that.

  
Eggsy didn't even know Gareth that well, for fuck's sake. The man was an expert marksman, like Eggsy, which meant they weren't paired together for ops. He was probably a lovely guy...

He was being stupid. Absolutely fucking dumb. So what if he'd seen Harry get into Gareth's car when he left last week, on his way to babysit Daisy? Harry probably wasn't allowed to drive yet, and as far as he knew, the two of them lived close together. And it didn't matter that Rob had let slip that apparently, when he started there, Harry and Gareth weren't on speaking terms after a fairly messy breakup. 

 And now it was apparent that Harry did keep the company of men, after Eggsy's own rampant internal speculations. Not that that was much help to him now, when he wasn't even on the older man's radar.

 

_Fucking hell_.

 

"Mmm," he manages, sneaking another glance at the lawns to his right. But there's no Harry, nor Gareth, to be seen. 

 

Roxy announces "Checkmate," knocking his king to the carpeted floor. "Honestly Eggsy, I'd have more competition right now if I was playing JB..."

 

"Sorry," he mutters distractedly, ducking under the mahogany table to fetch the runaway piece. The feeling of dread in his gut just won't go away, no matter how many times he tells it to fuck off. 

 

It was hard enough seeing Harry alone at HQ. If the man got involved with another agent...

 

Eggsy's so paranoid that Harry and Gareth are an item, he has to keep reminding himself that he has no hold over the man who doesn't even remember him. 

  
*****

Tuesday afternoons, traditionally, were drinking time. Once a month, Harry, Merlin and the former Lancelot had gathered in the latter's townhouse, rounded up all the spare liquor they could find and played cards until they were appropriately sozzled. And then, after some reminiscing and tipsy mischief, they would drunk-dial Ector to drive them all home. 

But Lancelot is dead, and a new, female Lancelot lives in his townhouse. The amber liquor that would usually sit in Harry's glass is replaced with water, and Merlin sits across from him in the expanse of the Arthur office, quietly dealing another hand. 

It was worlds away from everything it used to be, Harry noted silently. And then again, they all were worlds away from the people they used to be, only such a short time ago.If only he could...

Well these newly established, more sombre appointments were good for one thing. Harry regards the cards in his palm, absently organising them in chronological order. Slowly but surely, Merlin was filling in the gaping holes of time with words, and Harry was finally starting to feel frameworks of memory click back together. He couldn't remember actual events, per say, but at least now he had a vague idea of what had transpired these past few years. So he brings a newly rewritten list of questions to each card game, in hopes that his oldest friend could colour in the blanks- today had been fairly eye-opening, in regards to an apparent falling out he'd had 

"So shoot," Merlin remarks, leaning back in the cushy chair as he regards Harry over the tops of his cards. "Anything else yeh want to know. ?"

"Since you ask so baldly," Harry returns. "A Jack of clubs." He flicks the offending card onto the table with a practiced hand. And now for the question, one that he had been pondering for quite some time. "And Agent Gawain."

  "Gawain?" Merlin's a little surprised, which isn't like him. "Do you remember something about him?" Was there a hint of hope in the handler's tone?

"Of course not. If I had, I wouldn't be asking."

"My apologies for my tone," Harry sighs, brushing a stray lock of his perfectly pomaded hair back into place. "It does get rather frustrating not knowing things, you know."

The look that Merlin gives him tells him all is forgiven. Though the card he slaps onto Harry's says something else entirely.

"Bastard." The Scot grins wryly at that, neatly collecting the pair of cards before him.

"What d'ye want to know?"

Anything. Everything. Why that mysterious young man couldn't so much as look him in the eye without flinching. 

But Harry won't say that- he has an excellent poker face, thank you very much. And Merlin would only seek to worry or tease him about his extreme curiosity, and he was in the mood for neither.

"The lot," he proferrs as he claims Merlin's seven for his own, with a dismayed hiss from his playing partner. 

Taking a moment to collect himself,  the other man consults the cards in his hand briefly, before laying them face down on the table.

"The pair of you met around two years ago. He was yeh proposal to fill Lancelot's position. But yeh actually met back in '97. He's Lee Unwin's son, and yeh gave him the Favour. He used that Favour to get yeh to bail 'im out of jail for some petty crime, and somewhere in the 24 hours after that, yeh decided he was Kingsman material, and proposed him as yeh candidate."

"Great Scott," Harry murmurs, utterly lost in thought. "That's little Gary? Lee Unwin's son?"

No wonder the boy had looks so familiar...the same hair, the same nose. Agent Gawain was a spitting  image of the man who had been cruelly taken from him so young. And it was all thanks to Harry's lack of awareness. An all too familiar cramp of guilt lodges in his gut at the memory. Of what he had taken from those once youth-softened features...

"Indeed," Merlin remarks, a hint of a sigh in his tone. "He had a tough start, had his battles after yeh died. But he's a fighter like his da'."

The thought does shit all to disperse the guilt rapidly engulfing him. 

"Were we close?" The words burst out of Harry's mouth before he can stop them. 

There's a short pause, and Merlin seems to be having trouble finding the words, exhaling wearily.. "I believe the two of you were mutually dear to each other, yes."

"Passed through all the Kingsman training with flying colours, yeh were ever so proud of him."

All knights were proud of their candidates. Yet Harry couldn't help but feel there was some aspect of his supposed relationship with Gary Unwin that Merlin wasn't divulging. That the level of pride Harry had felt for his proposal was higher than that of his previous proposals for different positions. 

"Until that bloody dog test, at least," The bald man adds, then looks furious with himself. 

Harry's throat clenches. "What happened?" That dog test had never been high on his list of favourite examinations. He'd passed, of course- but the thought of holding a gun to his beloved Mr Pickle's furry head had sent unbearable nausea coursing through him ever since. 

Merlin exhales somewhat wearily. "He didn't realise it was a blank. Failed the test, and took off with one of Chester's cars. But yeh called him back to yeh place. I believe the two of yeh had a bit of a row, then yeh headed off t' Kentucky, and..."

Harry's oldest friend doesn't need to complete the sentence. 

 "Gawain took yeh death very hard," Merlin adds a tad quieter, a glimmer of concern in his eyes as he gauges Harry's reaction. 

"I see." The young man's behaviour was not unfounded after all. Sympathy floods through Harry, and with determination he resolves have a tête-â-tête with Gawain soon- maybe the pair of them could mutually put some pieces back together.

"Well thank you, Merlin, but I really must be going," Harry announces, standing up to slide his chair back into place.

"My pleasure, as always," his oldest friend responds, and walks Harry through the lush corridors of HQ to the tube station.

As Harry clambers into the back of a Kingsman cab as the sun yawns away into night, a text chirps on his phone.

_Still on for tonight? x_

The hint of a smile twitches the edges of his lips as Harry taps ' _Be there in 20 x'_ back to Gareth, reclining against the plush leather seat. They were to go to dinner, some Japanese place Gareth had always liked. He hadn't been there since they'd split, but given old wounds were clearly healing...

Stowing his phone away, he watches mellowly as London flies by in a myriad of lights and flashes, like so many fireworks in stopmotion. And as he contemplates the city that has been home for many a year, his thoughts stray back. Back not to yesteryear, of sepia memories and time-blurred nostalgia, but to the fiery-eyed blond enigma that had been the topic of earlier conversation. And eggs, because the stupid word _still_ wouldn't leave him be.

Merlin had endeavoured to refer to the younger agent by his Kingsman name during their conversation. Yet Gawain was not the name Lancelot and Kay usually referred to the young man as, from snippets of conversation Harry had happened upon. He _had_ been told Unwin's name, back when he had handed the tiny boy the Favour. But it definitely hadn't been his birth name, Gary, and the years and the dull blade of amnesia had made the moniker slip through the grip of Harry's keen mind.

What ever was Gary Unwin's nickname?

Merlin would know! Harry is just about to text the handler and ask, but something stops him. It's not urgent, after all. He'll ask Merlin tomorrow.

But then the cab smoothly brakes on the asphalt outside Gareth's, and all thoughts of the young agwnt who's nickname he's forgotten are wiped from Harry's mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there :) SO what do you all think? Leave me a comment if you want :D Thanks so much for reading!


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